


Snowflakes and Hot Chocolate

by SailorChibi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby!Tony, Bathing, Caregivers, Carrying, Coughing, Crying, Cuddling, Daddy!Steve, Diapers, Domestic Avengers, Fainting, Fevers, Flashbacks, I.V.s, Infantilism, Little Headspace, Nightmares, Pacifiers, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sharing a Bed, Sick Fic, Sick Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team as Family, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is a baby, Uncle!Sam, Uncle!Thor, Vacation, Vomiting, alternate universe - littles are known, bottles, clint is a toddler, daddy!Bucky, daddy!Phil, fear of needles, fussy babies, it's 30k of tony being taken care of, kitties, little!Clint, little!Natasha, natasha is about five, non sexual age play, non sexual infantilism, platonc relationships, platonic sharing a bed, pull-ups, sippy cups, tony stark is overworked, tony stark tries too hard, uncle!bruce - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9567998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: Steve and Bucky might be Tony's caregivers, but that doesn't mean Tony is ready to give up his adult life. But sometimes, when babies get sick, their daddies have to make decisions for them. No matter how much Tony whines, when he comes down with the flu, the whole team is going on a vacation so that Tony can rest and get better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This iss a commissioned story; anon wanted sick Tony, protective Bucky and Steve, and the whole team going on a vacation get Tony out of the city so that he can rest up in peace in a littles-are-known verse.

Steve could tell that it was snowing outside before he even got out of bed. JARVIS kept the tower at a very comfortable temperature all year 'round, but there was a chill in the air that couldn't be ignored. He shivered and huddled further into the bed, pressing his face into the back of Bucky's neck. Bucky barely stirred, but then again that was what he got for staying up until 4am just because Clint wanted to keep playing video games. Just for a moment, Steve seriously considered dragging Bucky out of bed and forcing him to go on a run. It would piss Bucky off to no end, but it would be worth it.

Then again, there was something to be said for the occasional lazy morning in bed, even if there was still ample space in the bed for their missing partner. Steve didn't have to look to know that yet again, Tony hadn't come to bed. Now that he and Bucky were officially Tony's caregivers, that was something that they tried to crack down on as much as possible. At least three nights a week, Tony had to sleep in an actual bed. It was one of those rules that Tony pretended to hate right up until he was cuddled in between Steve and Bucky. Big or Little, he soaked up the attention they gave him like a sassy, adorable little sponge.

But in this case, Tony's working binge was justified. HammerTech had pulled out all the stops on their last promotion and their new range of products had actually had an effect on Stark Industries' stock. Steve was convinced that the drop in points would be short-lived because everyone knew exactly how shoddy HammerTech really was, but there was no explaining that to Tony or Pepper. Tony had locked himself up in the workshop and gone into overdrive, and Pepper had immediately started teasing a brand new phone to the investors while doing everything she could to promote S.I.. Any attempts to tell either of them to slow down was meant with either a death glare (Pepper) or being ignored (Tony).

That, plus the fact that Natasha, Thor, Clint and Sam had been ambushed in an attack a few weeks ago, meant that Tony was pushing himself to the limit. Just last night he'd presented Natasha with brand new Widow Bites, custom made and built by Tony's hands alone. The awed smile on Natasha's face and the shy smile on Tony's face had warmed Steve straight through. The two of them were just too cute together. Unfortunately, Steve hadn't had the chance to enjoy the moment for long before Tony disappeared back into the workshop with promises to fix Clint's bow and Sam's wings floating behind him.

Maybe today would be the day when Steve could coax Tony out of the workshop for a while, he mused. Even for Tony, this was getting a little excessive. The key would be to make sure that Tony didn't think they were doing it for his benefit. The fact that it was snowing outside was a good place to start. Everyone knew how much trouble Steve could have with the snow and ice on his bad days, but a cuddle with Tony often went a long way towards chasing the darkest of his thoughts away. The problem was in getting Tony out of the workshop long enough to notice.

He sighed, accidentally blowing warm air across Bucky's neck. Bucky shifted and grunted, reaching back a hand to slap at Steve's thigh. "Stop thinkin' so loud," he said with a groan, trying to bury his face in the pillow. His next words came out muffled. "What are you still doing here, anyway? Why didn't you go out for your run? Sam's probably waiting."

"It's snowing," Steve said, and he was not pouting. He wasn't.

"Oh yeah. I thought I heard that on the radio," Bucky muttered. "Well, I wanna sleep some more, so unless you plan to go back to sleep I'm officially kicking you out of bed."

"I can lay here in silence!"

Bucky snorted. "Yeah right. You get more fidgety than Tony when he has to pee and doesn't wanna go in his diaper." He rolled onto his belly and turned his head so that he could eye Steve. "You want me to come?"

Touched, Steve shook his head. "No sense in both of us getting cold. Why don't you see if you can coax our baby boy out of the workshop?"

"I'd have more luck trying to turn lead into gold at this point," Bucky said through a yawn. "I stopped down there before I came up here to bed. He's finally passed the blueprints for the new phone on to R&D, thank god. It shouldn't be much longer before the prototype is created. He was in the middle of muttering something about boomerang arrows. I don't even think he realized I was there."

"We're going to have one cranky kid on our hands when he's finished," Steve said with a grimace. Yet it was nothing compared to the temper tantrum Tony would throw if they tried to go down there now and pry him away - and justifiably so, in a way. Pepper might have been the CEO of Stark Industries, but it was still just as much Tony's baby. 

Besides, it had taken Steve way too long to realize that Tony prided himself on caring for the team, and that included tending to their weapons and armor himself. He took it as a personal affront if he wasn't allowed to do that. Steve wasn't going to be making _that_ mistake again. He and Tony had worked too hard and too long to come as far as they had.

"Yeah, but we love him away," Bucky said. "Go for your run, punk."

"I'm going." Steve rolled out of bed, shivering a little even though the temperature in the room was still at 75 degrees. He crossed to the window and opened the curtains, confirming his suspicions. The sky was overcast and huge white snowflakes slowly drifted down past the window. The snow wasn't accumulating on the sidewalk; the flakes were melting as they touched the ground. But Steve could see that the people down below were dressed in winter jackets, scarves, hats, mitts and boots, and it looked like a chilly wind was blowing. 

Not an ideal day for a run, but the alternative was hitting the treadmill in the gym and it just wasn't the same. He shucked his pajama bottoms and t-shirt and pulled on sweatpants and a long-sleeved blue shirt that had originally belonged to Bucky. Then he hauled on one of the light-weight jogging coats that Tony had purchased for him. It was light enough that Steve didn't find it a hindrance when moving, but it did an excellent job of blocking out both the wind and cold. Then he grabbed his sneakers and tip-toed out of the room.

Sam was waiting for him - sort of. It looked like he'd sat down on the couch while waiting and now he was passed out, head tipped back against the couch, snoring. Steve rolled his eyes and walked up behind him. He didn't feel the slightest bit bad about grabbing the pillow behind Sam's back and yanking it away. Sam yelped with surprise as he suddenly sank backwards into the couch and blinked up at him. Steve raised an eyebrow and tossed the pillow in his face, heading for the door.

"Come on, slowpoke!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"You're the one who was taking forever to get ready!" Sam exclaimed, pulling himself off the couch. He stretched, swinging his arms from side to side as he walked up behind Steve.

"It's snowing out. It took me a minute to get motivated."

"I considered going back to sleep," Sam admitted as they stepped into the elevator. "But I thought you'd dump water on me again."

"Worse, I would've sent Clint in to wake you up."

"Hey man, I deal with Scott on a regular basis. You handle one Little, you handle them all," said Sam. "Besides, Clint's passed out unconscious."

"I figured." Steve smiled a little. Phil was away on a SHIELD mission, so they'd all been pitching in to help Natasha and Clint when the two of them needed it. Natasha liked to think of herself a big girl who didn't need any adult supervision, and with a mental headspace of around 5-6 sometimes that was true. Clint, on the other hand, tended to tip the scales no higher than a two and a half year old, and that meant he did need more help than he wanted to admit. Steve was pretty sure the whole mansion would be glad when Phil returned.

The elevator doors opened on an explosion of coughing. Automatically Steve looked around, searching for the source of the noise, hand reflexively reaching for the shield that he wasn't wearing. But it turned out to just be one of the male guards who patrolled the first floor of Avengers Tower. He was hacking and coughing into a Kleenex. The poor guy didn't look good at all, and - judging by the way that the other guards were slowly edging away from him - would probably be sent home soon to get some rest.

"I hate this time of year for that," Steve said under his breath.

Sam, who had also gone tense, turned to look at him. "You can't even get sick anymore," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but Tony and the rest of you still can. Besides, I can remember what a bad cold feels like." Steve rubbed his chest. His lungs were perfectly healthy, of course. Pinnacle of humanity and all that. But in his dreams sometimes he was still that scrawny six-year-old who needed help breathing more often than not, and it was jarring to wake up and realize that he could take a deep breath no problem. He could still remember all the times his ma had been forced to skip work she couldn't afford to skip just because it was heading into winter and Steve had come down with a cold.

"I think you're just looking to have an excuse ready for when I whip your ass today," Sam said with a smirk, pushing past him. The doors of the tower slid open and he broke into a light jog.

"Keep telling yourself that," Steve called, loping after him. He caught up with ease and fell into step beside Sam. It was chilly at first, but by the time they hit Central Park he'd broken out into a sweat and that helped. Instead of looping the park (and by extension, Sam) like he usually did, he kept pace with his friend and they jogged together. Not speaking, but the silence was surprisingly peaceful - even if Steve could have done without the snowflakes hitting his face.

They ran their usual 5 miles before slowing to a walk, heading back to the tower. Sam insisted on stopping at a bakery he'd recently discovered, which made, according to him, the best cookies in all of New York. Steve bought a couple dozen, figuring that maybe the cookies would help to coax Tony out of the workshop. Tony did have a little bit of a sweet tooth, though he would never admit it. He was especially fond of raspberries and chocolate, and there just so happened to be a tray of delicious-looking chocolate muffins studded with raspberries that caught Steve's eye. He also picked up two of those, ignoring Sam's smirk.

"Are those for a certain workaholic?" Sam asked as they stepped back outside. "You know that they say bribing kids and Littles isn't really the best thing to do, right?"

"A little bit of bribery never hurt anyone," Steve said with a shrug. "It's different with Tony. Bucky and I swore to him that we wouldn't disrupt his life when we became his caregivers. It was the number one thing that Tony was most afraid of." He looked ahead of them, remembering that day. He didn't go into detail because that was private, just between him, Bucky and Tony, but he'd never seen Tony that close to breaking apart. "We had to promise that he could still be Tony Stark, genius billionaire inventor. Believe me, I'd love nothing more than to throw him over my shoulder and carry him out of that workshop, but I made him a promise and I won't break it."

"But bribes are okay?" Sam said, smiling.

"Well, let's just say that sometimes I play dirty and leave it at that."

"Don't have to tell me that."

"What are you implying?"

"You know exactly what I'm implying," said Sam. "I don't think anyone would call you and Barnes teaming up together a fair fight."

"You just need to train more with the team."

Sam snorted and sent him a deeply skeptical look that said he wasn't buying any of Steve's bullshit. Steve grinned at him and headed into the warmth of Avengers tower; they'd opted to swing around the back instead of gathering attention by going in the front. JARVIS let them in and automatically sent the elevator to the common floor. The doors opened on laughter and warmth, and Steve basked in the sensation of both as he stepped out and kicked his wet, slushy sneakers off. Unsurprisingly, the sounds were coming from the kitchen.

"Cookies!" Clint yelled, eyes lighting up with joy. He twisted away from the spoon Bucky was trying to push into his mouth and leapt off the chair, literally throwing himself at Steve. Steve laughed and caught him up with one arm, half-lifting the toddler up in a hug while keeping the cookie bag well out of reach. He didn't think Clint was all the way in his headspace, but he was close.

"Yes, we bought cookies," Steve said, setting Clint back down. "Everyone sit down at the table and we can share."

He tossed the bag at Bucky, his attention wholly on the quietest member of the kitchen. Tony was tucked into a corner of the kitchen counter, hands cupped around his mug of coffee. It had actually been scientifically proven that caffeine was not good for Littles, but everyone knew better than to try and pry coffee out of Tony Stark's hands. That was a level of bravery, or possibly stupidity depending on how you looked at it, that not even Steve was willing to attempt. At least he and Bucky usually managed to avoid letting Tony have coffee when he was being Little, which on most days felt like a major accomplishment.

"Hey you," he said softly, the words meant for Tony alone. Bucky's eyes flickered up towards them though, and he gave Steve a very subtle shake of the head. Which could mean one of two things: either Bucky had already attempted to talk to Tony and been brushed off, or Bucky had seen the warning signs for what they were and hadn't said anything at all. Since it was unlikely that Bucky would ignore Tony like that, Steve figured it had to be the former and braced himself for a snappish or sarcastic reply.

Surprisingly, Tony looked up at him and smiled. "Hey," he replied, actually sounding pretty welcoming. "I figured that's where you guys had gone. You know, buying cookies on your way home kind of defeats the purpose of going out for a jog."

"What about muffins?" Steve asked, brandishing the smaller bag. Tony looked a little interested, so Steve unrolled the top and let the tempting smell of chocolate ooze into the air. 

Instead of snatching at the bag, Tony leaned back. "Smells good."

"Don't you want one? I bought them for you?"

"I'm not really hungry."

Steve frowned, taking a closer look at him. Now that he was paying attention, Tony didn't look as healthy as he usually did. His cheeks were flushed, but beyond that his skin was dry and pale. "Are you feeling okay, baby?" he asked, caregiver instincts kicking in immediately. He reached out to touch a hand to Tony's forehead, but Tony ducked away.

"I'm fine. Geez, you and Bucky are exactly the same," he complained, keeping his distance. That wasn't his playful tone, either; sometimes Tony could get very sensitive about what he saw as over-protectiveness (he had the tendency to call it mother henning) when he was trying to be an adult. At least now Steve knew the reason for Bucky's head shake. He held his hands up and took a step back, even though all he really wanted to do was pull Tony into his arms and cuddle the little guy until Tony relaxed into his Little self.

"Sorry. If it's any consolation, I tried to do the same thing to Bruce last week."

"He really did," Bruce said dryly, passing by on his way to grab more coffee. 

"I said I was sorry," Steve complained, even though he really wasn't. He was the leader of the team and considered it his responsibility to make sure that everyone was taken care of, whether it was his baby or another caregiver or a baseline like Bruce. 

Tony was trying not to smile. "You need a hobby, Cap," he said.

"I have plenty of hobbies. What I'd like is a hug." He opened his arms hopefully.

Tony eyed him without moving for so long that Steve started to think that it had been stupid to even suggest it. But it wasn't even for Tony's benefit at this point. It was cold out and Steve was starting to feel the chill again, and if he couldn't spend the day cuddling with his baby then a hug would've been the next best thing. Perhaps Tony realized that because, just as Steve was about to drop his arms, he grumbled a little, set his coffee mug down on the counter, and stepped forward to slide his arms around Steve's chest.

Steve hugged him back immediately, wrapping his arms around Tony's waist. It felt so natural to press Tony into the curve of his body, like he was trying to shield Tony from the world. In a way, he was. He couldn't help pressing his lips to the top of Tony's head, either, though he hoped that one slipped by unnoticed. Judging from the resulting elbow in his side, it didn't. He smiled to himself and just kept holding on, willing to stand there and hug Tony for as long as Tony was willing to let it happen. 

Eventually, Tony squirmed free. His face was even more flushed. "You're like a sauna," he complained.

"You like that I run hot," Steve said. In fact, he'd felt Tony shiver once or twice, even though he thought Tony's body heat felt a couple degrees higher than normal. He eyed Tony closely, wondering if Tony was catching a touch of the cold. God knew it was a terrible time of year for it. There were people coughing and sneezing everywhere Steve went, it seemed. So far it had avoided the tower, but Steve figured it was only a matter of time before one of the human members of the team came down sick. And once one of them caught it, everyone else would too. It was inevitable.

"Yeah, but not when I'm in the middle of drinking hot coffee," Tony said. As though to underscore his words, he grabbed his mug again.

"Maybe you should skip the coffee."

"Sacrilege!" Tony exclaimed. He petted the side of the mug. "There, there, baby. The mean old man is just talking crazy. I would never give you up."

"Tony, if you're talking to your coffee again, it might be time for a nap," Bruce said.

"Naps are for babies," Tony said absently, which was so ironic that all Steve could do was roll his eyes. It was times like this that he realized that Tony still hadn't fully come to terms with being a Little. And he was pretty sure that at some point, that was going to become an issue. He just wasn't sure what to do about it. Tony had made it clear he wasn't giving up the adult side he'd spent the better part of his life hiding behind, and frankly speaking the Avengers needed Iron Man too badly for Steve to even think about asking him to do that. But at the same time, it wasn't healthy for Tony to be so at odds with what he was, especially when he got so much enjoyment from being Little when he really let himself go.

Clint, on the other hand, threw a cookie at him. "You _are_ a baby!"

Steve caught the cookie before it could hit Tony's face. "We don't throw food," he said sternly, pinning Clint with a look.

"Yeah," Tony said, sticking his tongue out. "Now I have to go back down to the lab. R&D just kicked back the blueprints for the new phone with a couple of issues pointed out by testers that I need to fix." He re-filled his mug with coffee, then pivoted sharply. He stopped suddenly and wobbled, looking uncertain and flushed. Steve immediately grabbed his upper arm to steady him.

"Tony?" Bucky said sharply, standing up from the table. He was beside them in an instant, worry painted across his face.

"Whoa, calm yourself. I'm fine," Tony said, pulling away from Steve. "Just turned around too quickly."

"Are you sure you don't need a nap?" Steve said.

Tony sighed loudly. "If it will make you two stop, I'll grab a quick nap in the workshop. And I'll eat these when I wake up." He took the bag of muffins from Steve's hand and slipped past the two of them, heading out of the kitchen without looking back. As the elevator doors closed behind him, Bucky and Steve exchanged a look.

"Something's wrong," Bucky said, sounding concerned.

"He's over-doing it," Steve replied, frustrated. It killed him to watch Tony work himself to the bone like this. Sometimes he thought that Tony did it simply because Tony thought it was what he was supposed to do, like the team wouldn't want him around if he didn't do this, and he hated that most of all. Tony was a part of their family. He was their baby. But he couldn't seem to get that through Tony's head.

"Maybe we should -"

"I wouldn't," Bruce said before Bucky could even finish his sentence. "Just let him be, guys. I know it's like torture for the both of you, but Tony will not be happy if you go down there right now and try to baby him. You'll only end up with a cranky, fussy baby on your hands, and an epic temper tantrum when he finally comes out of it. It's not worth it."

"But I don't like it," Steve muttered, crossing his arms. 

Bruce's smile was sympathetic. "I'm sorry. You know what Tony is like, though."

"Yup," Bucky said. "He's just as stubborn as his daddy."

"Excuse you. Tony totally takes after you," Steve said, poking Bucky in the ribs. "He hates to admit when he needs to be taken care of."

Bucky guffawed. "Are you kidding me? Steve, there is no one on the _planet_ who is worse at that than you. Need I remind you of all the times when we were kids I had to literally sit on you to make you take two minutes to breathe through an asthma attack? Or all the times when you had a cold and you refused to stay in bed, thereby making it worse? Or for a more recent example, how about the time that octopus got you through the chest and Phil caught you sneaking out of the medical bay at 3am?"

"Or the time that he broke his arm and refused to admit that it was broken and ended up needing corrective surgery when the bones healed wrong," Sam said, smirking when Steve glared at him.

"Or the time when we were on the run and you didn't want to admit that you needed to sleep, so you kept yourself awake so long you walked into a tree and broke your nose," Natasha added. Steve was pretty sure he would never live that one down.

"Or the time - "

"Enough!" Steve said, cutting Clint off before he could share whatever story he'd been about to come up with. He threw his hands in the air. "You're all against me."

"Only when it comes to pointing out how much you and Tony are alike sometimes," Bruce said, patting him on the shoulder. "Let's just say there's a reason you guys had a hard time getting along when you first met." He sailed out of the room before Steve could respond, and Natasha got up and wandered after him.

"It's not that bad," Steve muttered sourly.

"Yes it is," Sam and Clint said together. 

Steve glared at them both, but spoke to JARVIS. "JARVIS, you're monitoring Tony's vitals, right? He's not in danger?"

"No, Captain," JARVIS said. "Sir's vitals are within a healthy range at the moment."

"Did he take a nap?" Bucky asked.

"Sir is currently sleeping on the couch in his workshop," JARVIS replied. 

That was something, at least: getting Tony to fall asleep was usually half the battle, and both Steve and Bucky had spent long nights walking around the tower with a fussy baby in their arms because Tony couldn't sleep and wailed like he was being stabbed if he was set down. That was usually when Tony was sick or had had a particularly terrible nightmare and was afraid of sleeping again. 

Yet Steve still had the feeling that there was something more to this situation than Tony just overworking himself, and that the answer was right in front of his face but he couldn't see it. He could've asked JARVIS for more details, but the problem was that even if there was something wrong Tony had probably commanded JARVIS not to say anything. And the loyal A.I. would never disobey Tony, not unless it was life or death.

"Will you let us know if anything changes?" Steve asked finally, at a loss for anything else to do.

"Of course, Captain."

"This ain't right," Bucky said softly.

"Tell me about it. Never thought I'd end up with such a stubborn Little," Steve said. He held up a finger. "Don't say it."

Bucky's smirk pretty much screamed 'you sow what you reap' but he didn't say a word. He just walked over to the table and scooped Clint up, swinging the screaming kid in the air and effectively slamming Clint all the way into his headspace. Which meant that Clint immediately started asking when his daddy would be home the second he was no longer distracted. 

"Soon, bud," Sam said, patting his head.

"But I want him now," Clint whined, eyes filling up with tears.

"He's working, Clint," Bucky said. 

"Stupid work! We always have to work! I wanna go on vacation! I want everyone to go!"

"Well, why don't you talk to your daddy about that when he comes home?" Sam suggested, shrugging at Bucky and Steve. It wasn't like he could promise that the whole team could go on vacation. If Fury still had hair, the very idea would probably turn all of said hair white. 

Though Steve had to admit, it was a nice idea. They were all stressed out for different reasons, and sometimes you never felt like you could really relax when there was a chance the alarm could go off at any moment. And it wasn't like there weren't other superhero teams available to take care of New York. The X-Men were perfectly competent, and the Fantastic Four were... well, Sue Storm wasn't that bad, even if Tony loathed Reed Richards and Johnny Storm was kind of a dick.

"I will," Clint said, jamming both hands into his eyes and rubbing. It was a classic sign of an overtired toddler, and Sam took over. He coaxed Clint out of the chair and wrapped and arm around his shoulders, leading him away and leaving Bucky and Steve alone in the kitchen.

"A vacation, huh," Bucky said, sinking into a chair. "Sounds nice."

"Somewhere tropic?" Steve suggested.

Bucky shook his head. "Tony still hates the water," he pointed out. "I don't think the ocean would help that. What would you think of a cabin? Would the snow be too much for you?"

"I don't know. I'd have to think about," Steve said. He tried to picture it. Bucky was right about Tony and water, especially when Tony was being Little. And there was something appealing about the thought of a nice cozy cabin. Plenty of warm blankets. Some of Bruce's special hot chocolate. Everyone cuddling in front of the fire while snow fell outside. He just might be able to deal with snow and ice for that.

"Well, don't think too hard. Chances are, we're not going to be finding out for a while."

At the time, they had no idea how wrong Bucky was.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky hated events like these. His therapist told him frequently that he’d come a long way in the past two years, but that didn’t make him feel any more comfortable in crowds. Especially crowds full of snobby rich people who all thought they were better than everyone else. Almost all of them had this unique way of looking at you like you were just a little better than the dirt they walked on. Even the custom-made suits that Tony had ordered for all of the Avengers didn’t do much to ease his discomfort.

What did help was the reason why they were here: Stark Industries was sponsoring twelve up-and-coming computer science majors (nerds, Clint had said with a smirk, which got him elbowed in the face by Natasha). All twelve of them had won full scholarships to the New York university of their choice, plus the guarantee of an internship at Stark Industries, and this party was where their awards were being officially handed out. It was cute to see the excitement of the kids.

The smile on Tony’s face right now also helped. He and Pepper were in full form, schmoozing and flirting in turn, moving to each cluster of people in the crowded room with the intent of talking up the prize winners while subtly promoting the newest Starkphone. The official launch date wasn’t for another two weeks, and Tony claimed that he had a few more tweaks before the phone could get into anyone’s hands, but this party was going a long way towards generating the right kind of interest. And for once, with the chance to slam Hammertech at hand, Tony’s smile was genuine instead of plastic.

Natasha glided up beside Bucky, hooking her hand onto the crook of his arm. She watched Tony for a moment, mouth twitching up at the corner. She didn’t really like crowds any more than Bucky did, but Tony had asked them all to come – well, actually they’d all woken up yesterday to find personalized invitations in their inboxes, which was as good as Tony getting down on his hands and knees and begging for their presence – and no one could deny him that, not even Bruce.

“You look nice,” Bucky said, breaking the comfortable silence. Her gown had been provided by Pepper. It was a bright shade of red that should’ve clashed with Natasha’s hair, but somehow just managed to look amazing. No one would’ve mistaken Natasha for a Little in it, either: it was low cut with a high slit, and form-fitting from her bust to her hips. But then, that was exactly how Natasha liked her gowns. She got a lot of amusement out of letting perverts hit on her before telling them a) that she was a Little, or b) just straight-up kicking their asses, depending on how much they pissed her off.

“Thanks. So do you. There’s a group of women over there who haven’t stopped staring at you all night.”

Bucky grimaced, well aware of the stares. He’d been trying to ignore them. He wasn’t comfortable with dating or romance yet, and sometimes he wasn’t sure if he ever would be again. The Bucky who had been able to flirt with dames as easily as breathing still seemed like a long way away. Right now, he considered it a job well done if he could get through a conversation with a woman without getting slapped.

“Maybe if I ignore them, they’ll get the hint,” he said, and she laughed.

“Doubtful. Do you want to dance?”

He eyed the floor. It was crowded. “Not really.”

Natasha squeezed his arm in understanding. “I’m going to go dance with Thor then.”

“Have at it.”

She did. Much to everyone’s surprise, Thor had turned out to be an even better dance than Tony. He just had this natural grace that translated well on the dance floor, and he had a good memory for the steps and a better ear for music. He seemed to enjoy having something physical that he could do that didn’t require him to be overly careful with his strength, and women adored how much of a gentleman he was. 

Thor’s eyes lit up when Natasha approached him, and he said something to the woman he was dancing with. She nodded and stepped back, bowing out graciously and allowing Natasha to glide into her spot. Next to Thor, Natasha looked dwarfed. She and Tony were the shortest members of the team, while Thor was easily the tallest. But that didn’t bother Natasha. She took Thor’s hand and, with a grin that was pure excitement, they were off. 

“They’re making the rest of us look bad,” Tony said, coming up behind Bucky. Automatically, Bucky reached back to wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulders. He paused once he’d done it, wondering if Tony would brush him away since they were in public, but Tony leaned into the touch and even rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“No one can make you look bad, doll,” Bucky said, satisfied. “You and Pepper should get out there and show ‘em how it’s done.”

Tony chuckled. “I’m not sure I can lift Pepper like that. Thor has an unfair advantage.”

“True, but I’ve seen you and Pepper dance before. You guys are something special.” 

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” Tony said playfully, but he was grinning. “I’m not sure I have the energy to take Thor on in a dance contest right now.”

Concerned, Bucky eyed him. Tony looked a little pale, though his cheeks were flushed. He hadn’t slept much over the past couple of weeks, Bucky knew, and even if he’d been stealing naps in the workshop, he probably hadn’t been sleeping well. In the past, Tony had as good as admitted that he didn’t sleep that good unless he was in his crib or curled up between Bucky and Steve. 

“You could take Thor anytime,” Bucky told him. He pulled Tony in, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. Tony was overly warm, he noticed, but it was hard to say whether that was from something being wrong or not. It was hot in the room and they were dressed in suits, plus Tony had been on the move since he walked in. It was frustrating not being able to accurately judge whether Tony was getting sick, whether he was just overtired, or whether Bucky was just being the mother-hen Tony frequently accused him of being.

“I like to think so,” Tony said. He shot Bucky a knowing look, but didn’t otherwise protest the stolen kiss. “I should get back out there.” Despite his words, he made no move to slide out from under Bucky’s arm.

“A little rest never hurt anyone. Here, let’s get you a glass of water,” said Bucky, beckoning to a waitress. She came over immediately with a platter of champagne, wine, and sparkling apple juice. No water, but the apple juice would do. Bucky took a glass and pressed it into Tony’s hands.

Tony sighed. “I suppose it won’t do me any good to point out that I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink your juice, Tony.”

“Didn’t think so.” Tony sipped at the juice obediently. 

Bucky just ignored him. He and Steve were caregivers, which came with certain biological urges and necessities. They _needed_ to care for someone, preferably a Little. Preferably _their_ Little. He’d been making do with Natasha and Clint while Phil was gone, but nothing would quell the urge quite like taking care of Tony. Up until now, he’d been careful not to push his needs onto Tony. But he was starting to wonder if maybe that was the kind of persuasion Tony needed.

They stood there for about ten minutes, safely hidden in a corner. Tony finished his juice and just leaned into Bucky’s side. He was looking tired now, eyes half-open and yawns becoming more frequent. Bucky had to push aside the growing temptation to just pick him up and rock Tony to sleep right there, or better yet scoop him up and carry Tony out of the room. They could make it back to the tower in less than twenty minutes; he could have Tony down in his crib in half an hour.

Across the room, Steve caught his eye. He was standing on the opposite side with Bruce and Sam, but he looked like he knew exactly what Bucky was thinking. Mentally, Bucky changed the estimation of how fast they could get Tony home and down in the crib to twenty minutes if Steve was helping. The baby was pretty easy to handle when he and Steve could double team him.

But then there was an announcement about dinner, and Tony blinked and started to lift his hands towards his face, like he was going to rub his eyes the way he did when he was overly sleepy. At the last second, knowing that Tony would be humiliated to be seen doing something so obviously childlike, Bucky gently caught his wrists and redirected his hands back down to his sides. 

Tony was getting better about doing Little things out in public, and so far the collateral damage from his coming out hadn’t been too terrible. But doing something like that here, when he was trying so hard to be big… Tony had fought too long and hard to get the respect of his peers and the smallest thing could damage his reputation. It was stupid as far as Bucky was concerned, but then he thought that a lot of things about modern society were stupid.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly. “You okay? You wanna skip out early and go home?” He cupped Tony’s cheek, knowing that this was safe. Outside of the team and SHIELD, no one was 100% certain just what the relationship between was between Steve, Tony, and Bucky. Most people (correctly) assumed that Bucky and Steve were Tony’s caretakers, but there was a lot of speculation about a romantic relationship as well. Which there wasn’t, but in situations like this the rumors helped.

“Yes,” Tony said with a laugh. “I would prefer that, but I can’t. Pepper would kill me, for one thing.” He pressed his hand over Bucky’s briefly, then pulled Bucky’s hand away. “It won’t be much longer.”

“And what happens after that?” Bucky asked. “You go home and lock yourself up in the workshop again? You haven’t been Little in weeks, Tony.”

“I’m not talking about this here,” said Tony, cheeks flushing, and walked away.

Bucky sighed. Okay, that had been stupid. This wasn’t the place for that conversation, and if anything he’d probably just pushed Tony in the opposite direction. He wandered morosely over to his assigned seat, which was – thankfully – at the end of the table, beside Natasha and across from Clint. Steve was sitting beside Clint. The rest of their table was filled with people Bucky didn’t know, but he could see Bruce, Thor and Sam sitting together at another table. Pepper and Tony, of course, were seated at the head table.

Dinner was good, if simple: roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, some green beans, and a whole wheat dinner roll. Not nearly enough for Bucky or Steve, but it would tide them over for now. Bucky kept an eye on the head table, noticing that Steve was doing the same. It didn’t escape his attention that Tony barely touched his meal, and his concern only deepened. Whether Tony liked it or not, they really needed to at least get some food into him after this.

Towards the end of the meal, Tony leaned over to Pepper whispered something in her ear. Pepper smiled and nodded, touching his hand briefly before she turned back to her conversation. Tony stood up and quietly slipped away from his table, heading for the back of the room. Bucky stood automatically to follow, waving Steve back into his seat. He had this. He ignored Natasha's amused look and followed, relieved to leave the loud noise of the crowd behind for even a couple of minutes. 

Tony went into the bathroom. Bucky waited outside, leaning against the wall and enjoying the solitude. It was just after seven, which meant that there was probably another hour or so of speeches to go through (sometimes it seemed like everyone on the board of Stark Industries had to have their say at events like this). Then the prizes would be handed out, there would be another speech or two, and then they would be able to leave. All in all, there was probably another two or three hours before Tony would be able to leave - which meant another two or three hours until Bucky could leave. 

He heard the sound of water running through the pipes overhead a minute before Tony stepped out of the bathroom. Tony didn't look very surprised to see Bucky standing there. Bucky just smiled, completely unapologetic, and fell into step beside him. He was pleased to note that Tony was taking the long way back to the banquet hall, which included a brief stop outside on the balcony. It was a chilly night, even though it was no longer snowing, but Tony just tipped his head back, took a deep breath, and sighed.

"Long night?" Bucky asked.

"You know it is," Tony said. "Only thing keeping me here at this point is how damn excited those kids look. You know, I was talking to a couple of them earlier and they're so smart. Ridiculously smart. They're going to put me out of the running."

Bucky snorted. "I don't think that's something you have to be worried about anytime soon," he said wryly. Tony was the smartest person that he knew. He'd never said as much, because Tony absolutely hated talking about Howard Stark but Tony was way smarter than his old man. Even if Howard were still here - and thank god he wasn't, because Bucky would've had to kill him for some of the things he'd heard Tony say in the midst of a nightmare - he wouldn't have been able to hold a candle to Tony. But for all of his intelligence, Tony didn't seem to get that.

"You never know." But Tony was smiling, small and shy, as he walked closer to the edge of the balcony. "I haven't been here in a long time. When Pepper suggested holding the party at the mansion, I thought she was crazy. But it's not bad."

"It's a nice piece of real estate," Bucky agreed, which was an understatement. The ground that the Stark family mansion was on must have cost millions considering that it was right in New York, to say nothing of the luxurious mansion itself. There was something charming about the slightly old-fashioned decorations, and Bucky had heard nothing but praise from the people who mattered. 

"It's alright. I like the tower better." Tony reached the railing and put his palms on the stone. He leaned forward a little to look over the side. "My mom used to bring me up here when I was a kid. She loved the gardens, but she was allergic to flowers. So she would come up here where she could just look at the flowers. They still bothered her, but she just put up with them anyway because she liked them so much. Her favorite was these." He pointed to a bush just below them. It was dead now thanks to the season.

"What was it?"

"Spring Beauties. They're very pretty. Mostly white with touches of pink or purple on them. I can pull up a picture - " Tony yanked his phone out of his pocket and started to tap away. 

Bucky was looking down at the bush, so he couldn't pinpoint the moment when something went wrong. But it would've been impossible not to notice the thousand dollar cell phone that went plummeting over the balcony's railing. His head snapped up as the phone struck the ground below and shattered, and he turned just in time to catch Tony around the waist before Tony followed. Tony fell against Bucky instead, and it was a good thing that Bucky was a supersoldier because Tony was pretty much a dead weight. 

"Tony? Tony, baby, hey." Panicked, Bucky gently lowered him to the ground. Tony's eyelids fluttered, which meant that he was already starting to come out of his faint. Bucky braced him against the door and quickly but thoroughly checked Tony's body, looking for any signs of needle tracks. There was nothing. Had Tony been poisoned? But he'd barely consumed anything all night, just the apple juice from that waitress. And there was no way for anyone to know that Tony Stark would've been drinking from that particular glass, since Bucky had chosen it at random.

The same sneaking suspicion that had been on the back of his mind all night hit him again. He pressed the palm of his flesh hand to Tony's forehead and let it stay there for a minute, instead of a two-second kiss. This time, he had the chance to feel the dry, burning heat that was radiating off of Tony. Shit. Tony was definitely sick. If Bucky had to guess, he'd said Tony's temperature was definitely over 100 degrees. No wonder Tony had been trying to keep from getting too close to him or Steve, or why he'd ducked away when both Steve and Bucky tried to feel his forehead yesterday. 

"You idiot," Bucky said softly, frustrated and worried in equal turns. That was so like Tony to push aside his own body's needs for the sake of everyone else, as though a stupid phone or a set of new arrows was more important than his health. Not eating or sleeping had probably turned that cold that was going around into this, whatever this was. Bucky couldn't be too mad right now, though. Later he would be able to scold Tony, but right now Tony had to feel totally miserable and needed support more than anything else. He gently combed his fingers through Tony's hair and waited for Tony to wake up.

It took another minute or two, but Tony's brown eyes slowly opened. He looked up at Bucky, completely disoriented, and mumbled, "Papa?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's me."

"Hurts."

"What hurts?" Bucky asked, hoping to get more information out of him. It was too late though. All at once, Tony seemed to remember where they were. He bolted up right, nearly knocking his head into Bucky's.

"I have to get back to dinner!" he gasped.

"Whoa, you hold it right there," Bucky said, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him back down. Tony tried to wriggle free, but Bucky was used to holding onto squirming babies and easily kept a hold of him. "Tony! Stop it right now!"

Tony went still, eyes wide. 

"Now you listen to me, young man. You're sick. Why didn't you tell me or your daddy?"

"I'm not sick."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

Bucky frowned. "Yes, you are. You're running a temperature, Tony. You're shivering."

"It's cold out here," Tony said weakly.

"Tony. Don't make me give you a couple of swats on the behind. You know I don't like it when you lie to me." Bucky pinned him with a glare, used his best 'I'm disappointed in you' tone. It wasn't nearly as good as Steve's, but sometimes it didn't take much. And sure enough, Tony cracked.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, eyes welling up with tears. "I had too much to do. I thought I could ignore it and it would go away. It always did before. Pepper wanted the new phone and she was worried about Hammertech and the stock, and I had to build new weapons for the team, and I don't _like_ being sick. I didn't want you an' Daddy to have to worry about me. You hate it when I'm sick." He gulped, trying desperately to hold back the tears.

This again. Someday, Bucky and Steve would figure out a way to get the fact that they cared about Tony and didn't see him as a burden through his head. For now, he pulled Tony into a hug and let Tony burrow into his chest. "Baby boy, your daddy and I love you. We enjoy taking care of you," he said firmly. "When you're sick or feeling bad, we want to be there for you. But we can't do that if you hide yourself away in the work under the pretense of having work to do. That's taking advantage of the leeway we give you."

"But I did have work to do," Tony whined.

"I know you did, but if we'd known you were sick, we could've been smarter about how you were working. Like making sure you stopped occasionally to sleep and eat." Bucky rubbed his back soothingly. "I bet there were times down there you felt too icky to work, right?"

Tony hiccupped and nodded slowly.

"Trying to push yourself through the kinda stuff never works. I thought you'd figured that out by now." Bucky sighed to himself, already recalibrating how the night was going to go. He'd have to call Steve and get him to meet them out front. In spite of his passionate words to Tony - and every single one was true, make no mistake - a sick Tony Stark was not fun to deal with. Illness and injury had the tendency to push Tony deep into his headspace, which did not make for a happy baby. Usually for the first day or two, Tony alternated between clinging to them and pushing them away. Then, depending on how sick or injured he was, he'd either get better or get to the point where he wanted both Steve and Bucky close to the point where he'd howl if one of them left the room. 

"I don't wanna be little," Tony whispered.

And there it was in a nutshell: the real reason Tony had been so determined to hide this. Bucky's heart broke for him. That was one thing that he couldn't change for his baby boy. Sometimes he wasn't sure he would even if he could, because Tony was such an adorable, happy baby when he would let himself be the Little that he was. Just one smile from the baby could turn Bucky's whole day around and chase away even the darkest of the memories from his Winter Solider days. And Tony always felt better after he spent some time as a Little, both physically and mentally.

"I don't think you're going to have much choice," Bucky told him. Since he and Steve had become Tony's caregivers, he couldn't think of a single time when Tony had been able to maintain his grip on his big self when he was sick or injured. "Come on, baby. Let me get Daddy and we'll take you home. You can have a bottle and maybe a nice bath, and we'll get Bruce to take a quick look at you -"

"No!"

"Tony," Bucky said, sighing, because it was starting already. Tony _hated_ doctors. Despite Bruce's constant protests that he wasn't that kind of doctor, Bruce was the only person Tony would sit still for. And even then, sometimes it was a job and a half.

"I have to go back in," Tony said, pulling away. He rubbed his eyes, wiping away his tears. "These scholarships are my initiative. I have to be there for when they're presented."

"Baby, you're sick -"

"I'll be fine. Really."

Bucky gave him a look. "You fainted and almost fell over the railing," he pointed out. Not to mention, he was positive that Tony was just barely clinging to his big side right now. If Tony thought that rubbing his eyes in a crowded room would damage his reputation, that was nothing compared to what would happen if he lost his grip entirely and slid into his headspace. He would never live that down.

"I did not faint," Tony said, sounding insulted by the idea. "I was just tired."

"Yes, not sleeping will do that to you," Bucky said dryly. He studied Tony's expression, realizing that Tony wasn't going to give in. Sometimes - just sometimes, mind you - Bucky wished that he had a Little that was actually little all the time, like 98% of the Littles in the world. He wasn't sure how he'd come to be a caregiver for one of those 2% who had grown up pretending to be baseline and were now too stubborn for their own good.

"Please. I'll even let Bruce look at me when we get home."

"Fine," Bucky said, giving into the inevitable. "But you're to sit at the table for the rest of the night, you understand? And the second those speeches are done, we're leaving. I don't want to hear any fussing or complaining. And you have to take two Tylenol to help with your fever."

"Yes, fine, whatever."

"And," Bucky added, "you have to agree to be little for a while when we go home."

"I knew that was coming," Tony muttered, making a face. It wasn't a huge sacrifice on his part and they both knew it, considering that it was inevitable, but Tony still hemmed and hawwed like it was. Finally, he nodded.

"Okay. Come here." Bucky got up, easily lifting Tony. It worried him, how wobbly Tony was, but he bit his tongue against the urge to renege on their deal. He wanted to just pick Tony up and carry him, but that would result in a temper tantrum that Bucky wasn't interested in dealing with. So he settled for walking Tony back inside very slowly. He made Tony wait outside of the banquet hall while he went inside and found Natasha's purse. Sure enough, there was a small bottle of Tylenol inside. Bucky took two of the pills and went back out to Tony. 

Tony swallowed them without protest, then stood up. He walked into the room of his own volition, a cocky smile on his face. Watching him, Bucky realized that you would never know he was run down and sick. In a way, Tony's acting skills were admirable. But in another way, it was troubling to think about when and where Tony had learned to act so well. How many nights had he spent in pain or sick while the people who loved him were none the wiser? How much time had he spent pushing down his Little needs for the sake of the reputation, forged in Howard's honor? Bucky would probably never know.

"Buck?" Steve came up behind him. "What's going on?"

"Tony's sick," Bucky said, dropping his voice so that no one else would overhear. "He fainted when we were on the balcony. Almost took a tumble over the railing."

"What?" Steve exclaimed.

"I know. I caught him just in time. I wanted to take him home, but -"

Steve deflated. "He insisted on coming back in here," he filled in. "That man."

"Exactly. He refused to leave and I didn't want to argue with him. It seemed better to just let him come back in." Except now Bucky was second-guessing that decision as he watched Tony sit back down next to Pepper. He didn't even know how sick Tony was. Sure he knew Tony had a fever and hadn't been eating or sleeping, but what if it was worse than that? He wouldn't put it past Tony to downplay his illness just to get what he wanted.

"It's too late now," Steve said, guessing where Bucky's thoughts had gone. "Let's just keep a close eye on him and take him home as soon as this is over."

If Tony was aware of their scrutiny, he was doing an excellent job of pretending he wasn't. He did a speech - each word recited from the teleprompters installed at the back of the room, but you would never know it from how charismatic he was - and then sat back down, looking like he was listening with rapt attention to each of the follower speakers. He applauded when the winners of the scholarships were read out, and got up to shake hands with and then take a picture with each teenager while dozen of cameras went off. 

Pepper did a little speech rounding up the rest of the night and everything was over - except it wasn't that easy, because people didn't just leave that quickly. They trickled out in groups of twos and threes, and Bucky was ready to explode by the time that the room was empty except for the team. It was close midnight and he just wanted to take Tony home already. But Tony was still talking to Pepper and a couple members of the press, and from the sound if it they were talking about the new Starkphone. Tony would literally kill them if he or Steve interrupted.

But then Tony went to turn around and staggered, like he'd missed a step. His face went this awful shade of white and Bucky just _knew_ what was about to happen. He and Steve moved so quickly they might as well have teleported; they were on the exact same wavelength, Bucky grabbing Tony's arm to steady him before Tony fainted again while Steve stole the attention by making their excuses. He pulled out the same old tried and true excuse: Avengers business that had to be taken care of immediately. Considering it was coming from Captain America, the journalists lapped it up.

Quickly, Bucky guided Tony outside the room where the rest of the team was waiting. Without asking for permission, he slid his hands under Tony's arms and hefted Tony up. Tony's legs wound so quickly around his waist that Bucky knew Tony had been craving this regardless of whether Tony would admit it or not. He cupped the back of Tony's head, guiding his head down against Bucky's shoulder. With Steve's coat on top of him, the bundle in Bucky's arms wouldn't be immediately identifiable as Tony Stark to any lingering cameras.

"What's wrong with him?" Clint asked, looking worried. Like the rest of team, he'd known for most of the evening that something wasn't right.

"Sick and pushed himself too far," Bucky said shortly as Steve came out to join them. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

Tony spent the ride home sitting between Steve and Bucky. He was curled in on himself, head tipped down against his chest, though Steve could tell he was awake – knowing Tony, he was fighting sleep with every ounce of strength he possessed. Natasha, Sam, Bruce, Thor and Clint kept their conversation quiet out of respect, all of them casting the occasional worried look at Tony. As far as Steve was concerned, they couldn’t get back to the tower quickly enough.

When the car finally came to a stop, safe within the parking garage under the tower, Steve climbed out and turned, reaching back into the car for Tony. Bucky scooted him a little closer to the door so that Steve could grab him, lifting Tony up into Steve's arms. Tony grumbled a little, a muttered comment about how he could walk just fine which Steve proceeded to completely ignore. If anything, he wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist just a bit more securely.

And Tony, tellingly enough, went limp in Steve’s arms, not even holding onto Steve’s hips with his thighs and knees the way he usually did. A too-warm forehead made impact with Steve’s collarbone, the heat apparent even through the layers of fabric, and Steve’s concern increased by another couple of notches. Tony had to be feeling miserable if he wasn’t fighting being carried when he wasn’t fully in his headspace.

“I’ll get the lab ready,” said Bruce, for once forgoing his usual ‘I’m not that kind of doctor’ spiel. He seemed to feel the need to give it every time, even though he always gave in. “Bring him down when he’s ready. Don’t give him any more Tylenol or medication until I have the chance to look him over.”

“Thanks Bruce,” Steve said with a grateful look. He carried Tony into the elevator, Bucky at his heels. As the doors closed, Tony coughed a couple of times and then whimpered. Steve patted his back comfortingly.

When they reached their floor, Steve took Tony into the nursery and set him down on the changing table. Tony tried to cling to him, but Steve was far too practiced at prying his hands away and soon had the baby on the table. He looked down into Tony’s flushed face and set a hand against Tony’s forehead. It was definitely hot, and the tuxedo Tony was wearing couldn’t be helping. He pushed at the heavy jacket, letting it slide down Tony’s arms.

“Hang on, sweetheart. We’re going to get you dressed in something much more comfortable,” he murmured, tossing the jacket over the rocking chair. He’d hang it up later. He started to unbutton Tony’s shirt.

“I think he left Meow downstairs in the living room. I’ll go get it,” Bucky said. Steve glanced up just in time to catch Bucky’s back heading out of the room. He frowned at the door. He got that Bucky was upset that Tony had hidden this from them for so long, but now wasn’t the time to be angry about it. Tony needed them, and frankly Steve wasn’t sure Tony would understand a lecture right now even if they gave it to him. The time for anger and scolding would be after Tony was feeling better.

“Your papa’s being silly,” he said to Tony, tugging off the shirt. That left Tony in just an undershirt and trousers. The glow of the arc reactor was visible now through the thinner material. 

“Not Papa,” Tony said. “Bucky.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Fighting your headspace, huh? Why am I not surprised?”

That earned him a glare. Steve just smirked back and reached for Tony’s belt, undoing it and then tugging it free. Tony helpfully lifted his hips so that the trousers could be slipped down over his bottom, but he put a hand to his boxers when Steve reached for those next. Steve tried to push his hand away, but Tony was stubborn and held onto his boxers.

“No! No diaper!”

“Tony –”

“Don’t need it,” Tony said determinedly.

Steve sighed. “Baby boy, we’ve been down this road before,” he said, trying to be patient, though he wasn’t sure how well that was coming across. “You hate it when you wet yourself, and I don’t think you can concentrate hard enough to make sure that doesn’t happen right now.” He brushed a hand through Tony’s hair. “I don’t want you getting upset when you lose focus and wet yourself.” Because Tony _always_ cried for hours after he wet or messed himself, and right now that was the last thing he needed.

“I’m big,” Tony whined. “I can do it.”

Steve had his doubts. He knew how much attention Tony had to put on his body to avoid losing control of his bladder or bowels, and he also knew that Tony didn’t have the capacity for that right now. So he put on his best puppy eyes. “Come on. For me?”

“No,” Tony mumbled, but he sounded much less convinced. His lower lip trembled.

“It’s okay,” Steve cooed, taking hold of his shoulders and gently pushing him back. Tony went unwillingly, a pout on his face as Steve pulled down his boxers. He reached for a diaper and lifted Tony’s hips, sliding it under him.

“No,” Tony whined again. 

“Sorry, baby. I’m making an executive decision. You need a diaper right now,” Steve said, pushing his thighs apart. He rubbed a little cream between Tony’s buttocks and just behind his penis – he was sensitive there, with a tendency to develop a rash if Steve and Bucky weren’t careful – then sprinkled some powder over him. He pulled the diaper up and taped it into place just as Bucky came back into the room.

“Papa!” Tony cried dramatically, reaching his arms out towards Bucky, and Steve tried not to grin. So much for Tony’s claim that Bucky wasn’t ‘papa’ right now.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky said, quickening his step. He had Meow, Tony’s favorite stuffed toy, tucked under his metal arm.

“Mean,” Tony said, pointing to Steve.

“Mean?” Bucky repeated.

“I made him wear a diaper,” Steve explained, wiping his hands. 

“Ah. How cruel of you,” Bucky said wryly. “Look who I found!” He held up Meow. The stuffed toy was mostly grey save for a white belly and chin and four white-tipped paws, complete with round green eyes, a big, fluffy grey tail that Tony loved to suck on, and a green bow around her neck.

“Just let me get him into a onesie,” Steve said. “Pass me one?” He took the plain purple onesie that Bucky grabbed and slid Tony’s hands through the sleeves. Tony didn’t fuss even when Steve snapped the onesie shut between his thighs, too busy keeping a close eye on Meow. 

Even when Steve was finished, Tony didn’t immediately grab for the toy, and Bucky and Steve exchanged a quick look before Steve said, “Don’t you want to give Meow a big hug? We left her downstairs by mistake. I bet she was awfully lonely down there by herself.”

That was enough to make Tony hold his hands out. Bucky readily handed over Meow. The toy was immediately cuddled against Tony’s chest. He whimpered softly, burying his face in Meow’s body. Steve felt awful for him. Sometimes Tony held onto being ‘big’ for so long that it was really hard for him to let go and be little, almost as though part of him was worried that this would be the last time that he got to be ‘big’. It was a worry that Bucky and Steve never seemed to be able to assuage no matter how much they tried.

It was worse now both because Tony had forced himself to be ‘big’ for so long and because Tony was sick; the day of relaxation that Steve had idly planned to ease Tony into the transition was going out the window. He just hoped that this time Tony would let himself accept the comfort from his caregivers instead of stubbornly pretending that he didn’t need it, the way he sometimes did.

Of course, in order to do that, Tony needed the full attention of both his caregivers. Glancing at Tony, who was still preoccupied with Meow, Steve turned to Bucky and said in a low tone, “Let it go, Buck.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky lied.

“Don’t give me that. I get it, okay? You’re pissed at him for hiding it, but –”

“Of course I’m pissed,” Bucky hissed back. “It’s not like we would’ve made him stop his work in the workshop if we’d known he was sick. This was too important to Tony. We just would’ve made sure he actually ate and stopped to sleep and relax once in a while to make sure that this” he nodded at Tony “didn’t happen. But Tony immediately assumed the worst. He told me that he knows we don't like it when he's sick because we worry about him. Are we that terrible at being caregivers?”

Steve should’ve guessed. He sighed and clasped Bucky’s shoulder. “No, Buck. I think we do the best we can. You and I both knew going into this that Tony has a lot of issues with caregivers.” And for good reason, Steve didn’t add, because he didn't have to. Tony had flinched away from both of them after a nightmare, had tried to hide the fact that he'd peed in his crib because he was convinced they would be md, had talked Bucky and Steve into concealing their change of status for months because he was afraid they'd change their minds... and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

He squeezed Bucky's shoulder tightly. “We can't change that overnight no matter how much we want to. And besides, Tony just... he gets obsessed with fixing problems and everything else falls to the wayside, including us. Maybe we do need to have another talk with him. Probably more than one, until the message that we get how important Stark Industries is to him sinks in.”

“He was working on things for the team, too,” Bucky muttered. “I just… it kills me when he does this. I can’t keep being worried and having Tony dismiss that like he doesn't matter.”

“That’s fair enough,” Steve said with a nod. He understood how Bucky was feeling. It was maddening to worry about someone who had such little regard for themselves, and more frustrating still because of the caregiver/little dynamic. “Right now though, you need to push those feelings aside because you’re not helping the situation. What’s done is done and Tony needs his papa.”

Bucky didn't say anything for a minute. His mouth was pinched into a thin line. Steve caught his eye and shrugged a little, grimacing. Both of them were good at taking down opponents on the battlefield. Show them something to punch and they'd go at it with relish. But Tony's demons weren't so easily demolished. The message that Tony wasn't good or worth enough - the message that being a Little was something to be ashamed of - had been hammered into Tony's head when he was just a kid. It wasn't something that was going to be changed overnight, or even in the span of several months. 

Knowing Tony, he'd probably been a little worried that Steve or Bucky might not want to care for him. It was a constant concern of Tony's, however unfounded it might be, that his caregivers would decide that he was too much work and he would be left alone again. So in Tony's eyes, it was better to hide the fact that he was sick and pretend it was because he was just so busy with the new Starkphone and the team's upgrades, as opposed to reacting like a normal person from the start.

"Daddy? Papa?" a tiny voice said behind them.

Steve turned. Tony was staring at the two of them, just two big brown eyes barely visible over the top of Meow. They'd been ignoring him for a little too long, Steve realized. Bucky stepped past him, striding over to Tony and scooping him off the table and into a bridal-style hold. He cuddled Tony for a moment, pressing his cheek against the top of Tony's head. 

"Why do you say, Daddy? I think we should take our sick little baby down to Uncle Bruce," he said.

"I think that's a good idea, Papa," Steve agreed, grabbing Tony's favorite blanket and tossing it over his shoulder. It was pale pink with a blue border that had a pattern of yellow and white bunnies on it. It was large enough to cover Tony and had originally been Natasha's, but Tony loved it so much that she'd eventually given it to him, much to Tony's delight. Steve was pretty sure that half the reason he loved it so much was just because it reminded him of Natasha.

"No doctor," Tony said, shaking his head. He coughed again as soon as he'd spoken, a dry, cracked sound that made Steve's own lungs ache with remembered sympathy. 

"Yes doctor. You and I made a deal, little man," Bucky said. "And it's Uncle Bruce. You know he won't be mean to you or do anything you don't like."

Tony pouted, but couldn't argue that. Bruce, for all that he had tried to keep his distance from the Littles in the tower at first, was _amazing_ with them, especially when they were sick or injured. Last time Clint had broken his leg, he'd lashed out at two SHIELD doctors and nearly punched a nurse in the face before Coulson had the chance to summon Bruce. Bruce had promptly banned any other medical personnel from the bay until Clint had the opportunity to calm down, then personally stood beside a kind nurse while she administered Clint's cast. Hopefully he'd be able to provide the same kind of miracle with Tony today.

As promised, Bruce was ready for them when they came out of the elevator. Despite all his claims that he wasn't "that kind" of doctor, he had a gurney set up in a small room off his lab. Said room was fully stocked with medical supplies, including several drugs that would never make the market for the public as Tony and Bruce, with some help from Helen Cho, had worked together to create some drugs that would affect Bucky and Steve. Nothing drastic, just something that would take the edge off any pain or sedatives to put them to sleep should surgery provide necessary.

Bruce looked up with a smile and slid a stethoscope around his neck. "Bring him over here, Bucky," he said, indicating the gurney. Bucky obeyed, setting Tony down on the gurney and taking a step back. Tony huddled in on himself, eyeing Bruce warily.

"Not sick, Uncle Bruce," he whispered.

"You're not sick, huh," Bruce said, obviously not buying that claim for a second. Tony _looked_ sick, even to someone who didn't know him very well. "How about we make a deal? I'll take your temperature just once. If it's normal, or even just a degree above normal, I'll agree that you're not sick and we'll stop there. If it's any higher than that, then I'm afraid I'll have to keep going. Does that sound fair?"

Tony frowned a little, but nodded. "Ear?" he asked, pointing to his ear.

"Your ear hurts?" Bruce said, frowning.

Steve swallowed a laugh. "I think he's asking if you can take his temperature in his ear instead of using an alternative method," he said, keeping a straight face. He was pretty sure they all remembered when Tony had gotten a bad ear infection. Getting an accurate temperature from his mouth or other ear was impossible when Tony refused to hold still, so they'd been reduced to taking his temperature anally. Tony had _not_ liked that, and he hadn't had any qualms about making his feelings known.

"Ah," Bruce said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "Of course, buddy. But you need to make sure you hold still, okay?"

"'kay," Tony said, nodding again. He shivered a little when Bruce slipped the thermometer into his ear. Steve refrained from draping the blanket around his shoulders just yet, knowing that an accurate temperature was important. Still, the minute they had to wait while Tony sat there shivering seemed like it took forever. As soon as the thermometer beeped, Steve stepped forward and wrapped the blanket around Tony. 

Bruce squinted at the thermometer. "102 degrees," he said finally. "Sorry. You're definitely sick."

Tony's lower lip trembled. "Not sick!" he wailed, a moment before he burst into tears. 

"Hey, hey. It's okay," Steve said, picking him up since he was closest. He patted Tony's back while Tony cried into his shoulder. "Sorry, Bruce. He's been a little out-of-sorts since we brought him home."

"It's okay," Bruce said with a sympathetic smile. "Being sick isn't fun for anyone, but especially Tony."

"Do you think it's the arc reactor?" Bucky asked.

"I'm not sure. JARVIS can scan the arc reactor for signs of infection to be sure, but right now I'd say no. This is a pretty bad time of year for colds and flues, and Tony's immune system isn't that great to begin with. It was really only a matter of time before he caught something. We're probably lucky that it took as long as it did," Bruce said. He grabbed the end of the stethoscope and breathed on the chestpiece to warm it up a little. "And of course, the fact that he's been going without sleep or proper nutrition for the past couple of weeks hasn't helped the situation, as I'm sure you've both realized."

"Yeah, we got that," Bucky said, shaking his head.

Bruce shot him an understanding look. He knew just as well at Steve and Bucky how impossible Tony could be. "The good news is, if we caught it early enough we can keep it from developing into something worse. Has he been coughing at all?"

"A couple of times," Steve said in between shushing the baby. He was pretty sure Tony was fully into his headspace now, judging by the way he was trying to slip his thumb into his mouth. Steve cursed himself silently for not having thought to grab a pacifier and grabbed Tony's wrist, pulling his hand away. They hadn't washed Tony's hands since getting home, so god only knew what was on them.

"Did it sound wet?"

"No, not particularly."

"That's a good sign. It probably hasn't moved down into his chest. He may just be coughing because his throat is sore and the dry air is irritating it. I'd suggest that you stay away from dairy in his bottles over the next couple of days if you can. Warm tea with honey will be a lot more soothing for him, and it's important to keep him hydrated. I can tell at a glance that he's dehydrated right now, and that's a bad sign. I'd hate to have to put an I.V. in since he hates needles so much."

Steve grimaced at the thought. That didn't sound fun. "His voice didn't sound off when he was speaking earlier."

"It'll probably get there in the next day or two as this really sets in," Bruce replied. "Hey, Tony? Can I listen to your heart for a minute?"

Tony whimpered and clung to Steve.

"I think," Bucky said, "that Uncle Bruce might let Daddy hold you the whole time if you agree to be a good boy for him."

"I think I can do that," Bruce said with a nod. "Does that sound okay, buddy?"

After a hesitant nod from Tony, Bruce smiled at him and stepped closer. Steve unsnapped the onesie so that Bruce had access to Tony's chest. Bruce set the chestpiece against Tony's breastbone very carefully, making sure he didn't touch the arc reactor. Tony still tensed and his breathing quickened; he was okay with Bucky or Steve touching the arc reactor during a bath or while changing clothes, but he grew very upset if it was touched at any other time or by anyone else. And they couldn't really blame him for that, either. Steve rubbed his back and Bucky stepped closer, taking the hand that wasn't clutching Meow in a death grip. 

"Heart sounds okay. I don't hear any fluid in his lungs," Bruce murmured, moving the chestpiece around a couple of times. "I'll take his blood pressure, but I'm guessing this is just a run of the mill flu."

That didn't exactly thrill Steve, and he could tell at a glance that Bucky felt the same way. When they were growing up, plenty of people had died from the flu. A bout of the flu had severely weakened Steve's mother a couple of years before she died, and although her official cause of death had been tuberculosis, he'd always wondered if the flu had made it so that her immune system couldn't fight the illness that had ultimately taken her life. He couldn't help tightening his grip on Tony. Medication had grown in leaps and bounds, but Steve still believed that the flu was nothing to scoff about.

Bruce didn't seem to notice, too involved in wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Tony's upper arm. Tony whimpered again when it squeezed his arm, but didn't cry. Bruce checked the readings and pronounced them a little on the high side, though he didn't look overly concerned by that. He checked Tony's ears for infection, then had the baby open his mouth so that Bruce could look at his throat. He nodded to himself.

"His throat is a little red, so I wouldn't be surprised if he starts complaining of a sore throat. Has he thrown up? Had diarrhea?"

"Not yet," Bucky said. "Or at least not that know of. He didn't eat much of his dinner, I noticed."

"He's probably nauseated." Bruce straightened up and tossed out the tongue depressor he'd been using. "He probably won't want to eat much, but encourage him to drink soup if you can. Broth, maybe, or some plain noodles. It'll do him good to get some food in his stomach while you can."

"You haven't mentioned medication," Steve said.

"That's because there isn't any, I'm afraid. You can give him Tylenol for headaches and to keep his fever down, but other than that I don't have anything I can give him. There's no cure for a flu or cold." Bruce sighed and patted Tony on the shoulder. "Honestly, the hardest part of this is going to be keeping him in bed. Rest and sleep will make the primary difference here, and we all know how good Tony Stark is at that."

"We might have to tie him down," Bucky muttered, gently patting Tony on the back.

"Officially, I have to recommend you don't," Bruce said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. "Unofficially, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Is he contagious?" Steve asked. Tony was trying to suck his thumb again, and he scowled when Steve pulled his hand away.

"Possibly, but I wouldn't be overly concerned about trying to keep him away from Natasha and Clint, if that's what you're asking. They've already been exposed to him, so if they're going to catch it chances are they already have." Bruce stripped the gloves off and tossed those in the trash too. 

Steve nodded. "Thanks Bruce," he said, meaning it. A visit to a doctor's office, or having a doctor visit the tower, would have been a disaster. Tony could be very shy when he was little, and he did not like strangers. And big or little, Tony especially hated having strangers poking and prodding at him. There was a reason that he was notorious for avoiding the post-mission check-up unless Bucky, Steve or Phil forced him to go.

"It's no problem, Steve. Anything for my poor little nephew." Bruce patted Tony's back gently. "He's going to have a rough go of it over the next week, I think. No sense in stressing him out even more. You should take him upstairs and try to get him to eat something."

"I think there's some soup left over from when Thor made dinner three nights ago," Bucky said.

Bruce shook his head. "That was heavily spiced. Think lighter."

"Chicken noodle soup from Dawson's?" Bucky suggested, aiming the suggestion at both Bruce and Steve. Bruce nodded, and so did Steve. The whole team loved the food at Dawson's.

"I'll take Tony upstairs and get him a bottle of water while you get the soup," Steve said, standing and hefting Tony in his arms. "And find a pacifier," he added, pulling Tony's hand away from the third time.

They left Bruce behind in his lab. Bucky headed out while Steve took up to the communal floor, figuring that the rest of the team might like to see that Tony was okay. There was no sign of Clint, Natasha or Sam, but Thor was sitting at the table working his way through a stack of cookies. He looked up when Steve and Tony came in, his expression turning to concern.

"Is the little one well?" he asked.

"He has the flu," Steve replied. "Would you mind holding him while I get a bottle ready?"

"Certainly." Thor wiped his hands and then took Tony from Steve; he was endlessly careful, handling Tony as though the baby were made from fragile glass. "It seems that Midgardians get sick frequently," he observed, absently moving the cookies out of Tony's reach. "Is this normal?"

"Unfortunately. Not so much for me and Bucky because of the serum, and I don't think Bruce can get sick because of the Hulk. But pretty much everyone else is fair game." Steve opened the fridge for a quick look, smiling when he spied a bottle of apple juice. Tony loved apple juice, and it would be a nice treat after he took his medication. He pulled the bottle out, fetched a sterilized adult baby bottle, and poured some of the juice in.

"It seems very unpleasant."

"From what I remember, it is. If we're lucky, Tony won't get any worse than he is right now."

"Our luck is never good," Thor said dryly. "I suppose that means the little one will become quite ill."

Steve sighed as he screwed a nipple on. "It does seem that way," he admitted. He fetched the bottle of liquid Tylenol from where they kept it. Much to both his and Thor's surprise, Tony took a spoonful without too much fuss. He even drank the whole bottle of juice and stayed awake long enough for Bucky to feed him half a bowl of soup before he fell asleep.

Maybe, Steve thought hopefully, their luck was changing.

Or maybe Fate just liked to lull them into a state of complicity. He and Bucky had a rude awakening at 4am when Tony started choking and gagging. Steve half-fell out of bed and got the lights on just in time to see Tony spit up all over himself before he dissolved into tears. Bucky looked at Steve, looked at Tony, and then carefully plucked Tony out of the crib. He carried Tony into the bathroom, leaving Steve to deal with the mess in the crib.

And then it got worse. Because no matter what Steve or Bucky did, Tony refused to stay on the couch. The second one of them took their eyes off of him, he was up and toddling across the floor as fast as his feet would go. Once or twice he even made it all the way down to his workshop, but, at Steve's request, JARVIS had sealed the doors and wouldn't permit him entry. It was for Tony's benefit, but that still didn't make it any easier to walk out of the elevator and see the baby sitting in front of the doors, wailing.

"Tony, don't cry. It's okay," Steve said, scooping Tony up in his arms. "You don't wanna work when you feel all icky."

"Work. Gotta work," Tony whined. His voice was definitely hoarse now, so scraped raw that Steve winced.

"No work, baby boy. You need to rest."

"No!" Tony cried. He started to cry again, stretching one arm plaintively towards the workshop. "Noooo!"

"You don't tell Daddy no," Steve said half-heartedly, knowing it was falling on deaf ears. He rocked Tony back and forth, heart aching as he listened to the baby sob. "JARVIS, would you call Pepper for me?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard above Tony's howls.

"Certainly, Captain."

Pepper didn't come visit the tower because she was in Hong Kong, and because Steve didn't want her to get sick. But she did video-call Tony and tell him that the R&D had worked out the last of the kinks in the new Starkphone, so there was really no need for Tony to be working right now. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be enough to pacify Tony. He cried even harder, until the tears aggravated his throat too much and he fell into a bout of coughing that seemed to last forever.

"We're just not sure what to do with him," Steve told her after Bucky had removed Tony from the room. "I've never seen him like this before."

"Hmm." Pepper drummed her fingers on her arm. "I'm not sure what to tell you," she admitted. "Tony uses working as a distraction when he's in pain or upset. Right now, he's both. He probably doesn't want to sit around and think about how awful he feels."

"But Bruce said rest is important for him. And he's really not in the right shape to be working even if he wasn't in his headspace."

"I know. I was talking to Natasha this morning. She was telling me about it." Pepper sighed and ran her hands through her hair. Steve had only ever seen her do that once, when Tony had been impaled by a steel rod and needed emergency surgery. It was a sure-fire sign that she was really worried. Steve knew the feeling.

"I asked JARVIS to keep him away from the workshop, but that only seems to upset him more," he said. 

"Then why don't you take him away from it?" Pepper suggested. "Tony has plenty of properties, Steve. I could have one prepared for you guys. I know that making him travel when he's in this state isn't the best idea, but it might be better for his health overall."

Steve thought about it. Now that Pepper had mentioned it, it wasn't the worst idea he'd heard. She was right in that removing the temptation of the workshop entirely would be for the best. And frankly, maybe a change of pace would be good for Tony. He was barely sleeping and became fussy whenever they tried to feed him, twisting his head away, and refused bottles. All he did was cry and try to escape to the workshop.

"That's actually a good idea, Pepper," he said. "And I'm going to go talk to Bruce and Bucky about it right now."


	4. Chapter 4

"Come on, baby boy," Bucky murmured, leaning over the side of the crib. The top bar dug into his ribs, but he didn't dare lower it. Tony was fast even when he was sick, and Bucky had no desire to chase him into the elevator for the sixth time that day alone. Leaving him in his crib all the time wasn't an option as Tony had also proven that he wasn't afraid to try climbing out. Right now though, Bucky was doing his best to get the baby to lay down for a nap. It was past 4pm and Tony hadn't sleep well the night before, so a little rest would do him a world of good. 

He kept rubbing Tony's back, noticing the way that the baby's eyelashes were fluttering as he struggled to stay awake. Tony's eyes would slowly slide shut for just a second or two before he'd remember himself and startle awake. But the seconds in between were slowly getting longer, until finally Tony didn't open his eyes again. Bucky breathed out a soundless sigh of relief, keeping up the soothing rub until he was certain that Tony was really asleep. Then he very slowly pulled his hand away and straightened up, tiptoeing out of the room. The rhythmic sound of the humidifier covered his footsteps, letting him escape safely.

"Thank you god," Bucky said under his breath, half-closing the door behind him. He hooked the baby monitor to his belt, even though JARVIS would probably notice Tony was awake long before the monitor picked up any sounds, and leaned against the wall for a minute just to rest. He loved being a caregiver, but taking care of a sick baby was exhausting. All he could do was hope that this time, with Meow tucked under his arm, a pacifier in his mouth, and covered by his favorite blanket, Tony might actually sleep for a couple of hours.

Sleep actually sounded pretty good to Bucky now that he was thinking about it. Because when Tony wasn't sleeping, it was pretty hard for Bucky or Steve to sleep either. And it wasn't like Bucky could get angry about it, either. Tony was a miserable sight when he was sick, all red eyes and flushed face and tiny, high-pitched whimpers that tugged at your heart. At least he'd only thrown up that one time. Bucky was crossing his fingers that they wouldn't get a repeat of that particular fun episode. It was just frustrating to see someone he loved so much be so uncomfortable and not be able to do anything about it.

He rubbed his eyes and sighed, wandering into the kitchen. It was blessedly silent - even though there was a communal floor, the team freely wandered into each other's floors without needing to ask permission, so more than once Bucky had come into the kitchen he shared with Steve and Tony to find Clint or Sam hanging out at the table - and he sank into a chair at the table. The idle thought of trying to cook himself something to eat crossed his mind, but before he could follow through he put his head down on the table. Just for a minute.

That 'minute' turned into the sound of Steve's voice waking him. Bucky inhaled sharply and jerked his head up, looking around in bleary bewilderment. "What? Steve?" There was no one in the room with him, and it took him a moment to realize that Steve's voice was coming from JARVIS's systems.

"Buck? Sorry, were you sleeping?"

"It's fine. What's up?" Bucky glanced at the clock, shocked to see that it was after 5pm now. He'd been sleeping for over an hour, and apparently so had Tony. That was a very positive sign.

"I need to talk to you and Bruce. Could you come down?"

"I'd rather not. Tony's sleeping."

"We'll come up," Steve said immediately. "Be right there."

Bucky smiled to himself and rubbed the back of his head. He could've gone down and let JARVIS monitor Tony, but he didn't feel right about leaving Tony alone. He could still remember the time that Loki had decided to attack in the middle of the night while Tony was little. Steve and Bucky had reported automatically for duty, but only after Phil had come upstairs to babysit Tony. Tony had woken up needing a diaper change while they were out, and his resulting meltdown when he found Uncle Phil and not his daddies had been legendary. He didn't want to know what Tony would do if he woke up to find himself alone.

He stood up from the table and stretched, working a couple of kinks out, then put on some coffee. By the time that Bruce and Steve walked into the room, Bucky had three mugs ready to go. He handed them out and took a deep sip, letting out a quiet sigh of approval at the taste. Tony always kept their favorites stocked, but it had been a couple of days since Bucky'd had any. Tony was having a hard enough time sleeping without him trying to sneak sips of coffee from Bucky's or Steve's mugs when they weren't looking.

"What's going on?" he asked in between several more sips.

"Pepper suggested we take Tony out of the tower to keep him away from the workshop," Steve said without preamble, setting his mug on the table. "I asked JARVIS to look up Tony's properties in New York. He's got a cabin about three hours north by plane. It's big enough for the whole team, but Tony hasn't been there for a while so there's no workshop. No place for Tony to keep trying to run off too."

Bruce mulled this over. "It has merit. Certainly, you're having a hard time getting Tony to relax in the tower. A change of scenery could do him good. Is the cabin still wired for JARVIS?"

Steve smiled. "Apparently the first thing Tony does when he buys a new property is making sure that it's 'JARVIS ready'," he said. "I just wanted to make sure that it would be okay to move Tony right now, and that you were okay with it, Buck."

"My instinct is to say that making Tony travel right now certainly isn't ideal," Bruce said slowly. "Is it far away from a town? Could we get to the hospital if necessary?"

"It's only twenty minutes to the nearest place. I already looked. The town has a small hospital and is equipped to deal with Littles. Plus, there's an airstrip about two minutes away. We can take the private jet and if something went wrong, we'd have a quick way out," said Steve.

"I'd want to make sure that the cabin was well stocked with supplies, but other than that I don't see why not," Bruce said. "Ideally you would keep him here in the tower, but I know how much trouble you've had trying to get Tony to rest. Pepper's right. Getting him away from the workshop might be the best thing you can do right now. Though he probably won't be happy about it."

"That's an understatement," Bucky muttered. He could see where Steve was coming from. He wasn't sure he loved the idea of traveling with Tony right now, but if they were lucky Tony would just sleep right through the flight. What made him curious than anything else is that Steve had deliberately said that the cabin was big enough for the whole team. This didn't sound like getting Tony out of the tower so much as it sounded like an excuse for the vacation that Clint had been whining for a couple of days ago. 

He eyed Steve and said, "Just who do you think is gonna look after New York while the team is on vacation, then?"

"What?" Bruce said. "I didn't agree to -"

Steve cut him off. "Sorry, Bruce, but a vacation would be good for everyone and you know it. Tony might be the only one who is sick, but we're all tired. And while I admit that it's not ideal for the whole team to be away all at once, it's not the end of the world either. We're only going to be three hours away, so if SHIELD _really_ needed us it's not like one or two of us couldn't back. In the meantime, the Fantastic Four and the X-Men can look after New York. It's not like we haven't jumped in to help them plenty of times over the last year, and we probably won't be gone for more than a week or so."

"I knew you were cooking up something like this," Bucky said, unsurprised. He should've known that the idea of a vacation would set the wheels turning in Steve's head. He was just a little shocked that Steve wasn't pushing the chance to get away from the snow by going somewhere tropical. Probably the only thing stopping that was that it would be hard for Tony to travel that far right now.

"I might've talked to Phil already," Steve admitted. "He's due back tomorrow morning, but I asked him if he'd meet us at the cabin instead and he agreed. So Clint and Natasha are coming with us regardless of whether you want to come, Bruce, or whether Sam or Thor want to come."

Bucky had to smile. "They're going to freak out."

"I don't know. I have a lot of experiments running right now," Bruce said.

"It's up to you. We're leaving tomorrow morning. But I would feel a lot better if you were there to help keep an eye on Tony," Steve said, his face all innocence. "I know you're not that kind of doctor, but Tony trusts you and you're familiar with his medical history. If something started to go wrong, you're really the only one who would notice or know what to do."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to emotionally blackmail me," he said, but he was trying not to grin.

“But it’s just for a few days. No more than a week. And it will be good for you to have a break, Bruce. You and Tony spend so much time cooped up in your workshops. Besides, this will be great for –”

“Bruce, for the love of god, don’t make him start with the team bonding speech,” Bucky said before Steve could finish that train of thought. He knew _exactly_ what it would lead to, and he didn’t have it in him to sit through a talk about how important team bonding is. Steve glared at him.

“Team unity is important –” he began hotly.

“You know what,” Bruce interrupted, “I think it sounds like a great idea. Getting away from the New York smog will be better for Tony’s lungs, and I’m sure the rest of us could use a break from the city too. It’ll be nice to have a couple of days where we don’t have to worry about getting called out. Let me go get together a list of stuff for Tony. I’ll send it to you.” He was edging towards the door as he spoke, so that his last sentence was called back over his shoulder, “Thanks for the invite, Steve, I’ll let Thor know too!”

“See,” Bucky said, smirking. “I’m not the only one who doesn’t like your speeches.”

Steve just rolled his eyes. “You make fun, but the team works well together for a reason,” he grumbled. 

“And we appreciate your efforts,” Bucky said sincerely, then nudged him. “Is Sam up for it?”

“I haven’t told him yet, but I think he will be. He could bring Scott if he wanted.”

“Don’t forget, this is supposed to be a chance for Tony to rest. Too much excitement won’t help with that,” Bucky pointed out. He was going to say something else, but at that exact moment the sound of wailing cut through the kitchen. He sighed and exchanged a tired look with Steve.

“How long did he sleep for this time?” Steve asked.

“About an hour and a half.” Bucky didn’t have to add ‘not long enough’.

“I’ll get him. You look exhausted.” Steve got up and left the room. Bucky picked up his mug of coffee and listened as he entered the nursery and started to talk to Tony. The soft, caring tone did very little to soothe the unhappy baby, of course. Tony was sick and upset and he wanted everyone to know it. It wasn’t long before Steve came back in, holding Tony in his arms. He was bouncing the baby gently, but Tony was struggling to get away from him.

“Pa,” he cried when he saw Bucky, stretching his arms out. “Papa!” His voice was barely more than a croak now.

Steve shrugged and shot him an apologetic look. Bucky waved it off, reaching for Tony. No matter how tired he was, he couldn’t deny their baby. Fortunately, once Tony was on his lap, he just tucked his head under Bucky’s chin and stuck his thumb in his mouth without fussing. Bucky touched his forehead, a little worried that it was just as warm as it had been before, then stroked his hair.

“I think it’s just about time for his next dose of medicine,” he said. 

“I’ll get it. Want to try him with a bottle?”

“Can’t hurt.” Bucky rested his cheek on Tony’s hair and rocked him gently, listening to the sound of Tony’s breathing while Steve prepared a bottle. It was a little wheezy, but Tony’s nose was stuffed up. Bruce had been giving him a mini check-up every morning, making sure that the congestion hadn’t moved down into Tony’s lungs. So far, they’d been okay. He was really hoping that it stayed that way. 

They’d been down that road once before, back when Tony caught a cold that turned into pneumonia and he’d ended up in the hospital – in the Littles Ward, much to his displeasure. He’d spent the first day insisting that he was big enough to be in the adult’s ward, but of course that only lasted until his temperature spiked. He’d slid quickly into his headspace, and while it was good that Tony had stopped fighting the inevitable since that put less stress on his body, it was torture for Steve and Bucky to have to listen to him cry constantly because he wanted to go home. 

Those four days had been some of the most grueling that Bucky had ever gone through, and he was factoring his time as the Winter Soldier into that. He honestly wasn’t sure who was more relieved when the doctors pronounced Tony well enough to go home. It had taken Tony a long time to recover from that, too. That month was the longest Tony had ever spent in his little headspace. 

Now they knew that pneumonia was a danger though, Bruce could actively monitor for it. None of them had known then, not even Tony, though Bruce had admonished himself frequently for not putting two and two together before. And Bruce seemed confident that this time, it really was nothing more than the flu. He’d told Bucky that he and Steve were doing everything right, and that – unlike during the pneumonia, when Tony was given antibiotics – the flu just had to run its course.

“Buck?”

Bucky startled at the sound of Steve’s voice, realizing that he’d all but drifted off while remembering Tony’s stay in the hospital. “Sorry,” he muttered, straightening up. 

“It’s fine. We’re both tired.” Steve smiled, but his face was shadowed with exhaustion. “Why don’t we give Tony a bath after this and then head to bed?”

“It’s only six.”

“So? Tony won’t sleep the night anyway. We might as well grab some sleep while we can.”

Steve had a point. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and the Tylenol will knock him out for a while,” Bucky said. “Ready?”

“Right here.” Steve held up a syringe. Tony did _not_ like the liquid Tylenol. Bucky couldn’t really blame him. It smelled and tasted disgusting (he might have dipped his pinkie finger in to taste it two days ago while Steve was struggling to get Tony to swallow a spoonful. The fake cherry flavor nearly made him throw up). It was Phil’s suggestion – done during what was an official SHIELD call to check in, but which was really just an excuse to check up on Clint and Natasha – to put the medication in a syringe and squirt it into Tony’s mouth, and it worked a hell of a lot better than begging Tony to take the medicine.

The unfortunate part was that Tony still didn’t like taking it, so Bucky usually had to hold him down while Steve pushed the syringe into his mouth and depressed it. It made them both feel awful, especially because Tony had the tendency to shy away from both of them for a few minutes after it happened, but it was a necessary evil. Bucky tipped the baby’s head up, holding his chin, while Steve pulled his thumb out of his mouth.

Tony’s eyes popped open. He tried to recoil as soon as he saw the syringe. “No!”

“Tony, you need to take your medicine,” Steve said.

“No!”

“Yes, baby. It’ll make you feel better.”

Tony’s eyes welled up with tears. “Dada, no,” he whimpered. 

That broke Steve’s heart. Bucky could see it. He knew exactly how Steve was feeling, considering that this morning it was Bucky who had been faced with those pleading, big brown eyes. He shifted his right foot forward - the only part of him that was capable of moving, with Tony on his lap - and touched Steve on the ankle. Steve's eyes darted to him. Whatever he saw in Bucky's face seemed to firm his resolve. They both knew that no matter how much Tony hated it, this was for Tony's own good.

"This will make you feel better," Steve said out loud, though whether he was trying to convince Tony or himself and Bucky, it was hard to say. 

"Nooooo!" Tony whined, then clamped his mouth shut. He refused to open his jaw no matter how much Steve coaxed him. In the end, Bucky had to pry his mouth open. Steve quickly slipped the tip of the syringe in and squirted the medicine into Tony's mouth, aiming for the back of his throat so that he'd have no choice but to swallow. Tony started to gag, making a horrible face. He squirmed as Bucky pressed his mouth shut, holding his lips together until he felt Tony swallow. Only then did he let go.

Tony started to cry immediately, of course, moving off of Bucky's lap. "No!" he shouted at them when Steve started to reach for him, nearly slipping in his haste to get out of reach. The thick diaper he was wearing widened his gait, and the fever wasn't helping his already precarious balance. That didn't stop Tony, though. He caught himself on the edge of the table, glared at them and then toddled out of the room.

"I feel like I just kicked a puppy," Steve said into the silence.

Bucky sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "He'll get over it, Steve. He's just a baby. He doesn't understand right now that we're trying to help him." Or that's what he told himself, anyway. It was easier to remember that when Tony wasn't staying at him with an expression of abject horror, like he couldn't believe his daddy or papa were being so cruel. 

"I just really, really hope that he starts feeling better soon. I miss my cuddly, happy Tony."

"You and me both," Bucky said under his breath. In a way, he was glad that Tony now felt capable of yelling at them or leaving. Because back when he and Steve first became Tony's caregivers, Tony would barely say a word out of turn when he was in his headspace. He did everything and anything that Bucky and Steve wanted him to do, so anxious and eager-to-please - and afraid that the slightest misstep might make one or both of them change their minds - that it was painful. Of course, one of the biggest problems with that showed up when Tony was in his big headspace. He'd been extra snarky and sarcastic, pushing the whole team away, not just his new caregivers, like he thought he could make up for his vulnerability by being a little extra assholish.

They'd moved past that, and Bucky was pleased. But sometimes he did wish that Tony would just be a little more willing to listen at times like this. Which made him feel guilty, because all things considered, Tony was a pretty easy Little to take care of. He wasn't in his headspace 24/7 like most Littles. And even when he was, he didn't fight them or try to run away or act out. He didn't throw temper tantrums or try to hurt himself or pick fights with the other Littles in the tower. He wasn't even that mischievous. He was sweet and affectionate and desperate for attention from anyone who wanted to give it, but especially from his caregivers.

All of which probably meant that while they were sitting here feeling guilty, Tony was hiding somewhere needing comfort. Bucky stood up, grabbing the bottle of water. "You clean up, I'll grab the baby," he said. "Bath time and bed is sounding real good about now."

He headed out of the kitchen, knowing that Tony couldn't have gone far. They didn't have to worry about him having gone to the elevator, since JARVIS had been asked not to let Tony control the elevator unless an adult was with him. There were a couple of places that Tony liked to hide when he was upset, namely under the bed Bucky and Steve shared and under the kitchen table. Since Tony wasn't in the kitchen, Bucky went for the bedroom. He pushed the door open and looked into the room. JARVIS would never give away Tony's location unless Tony was in danger, but the fact that the lights in the room were at 50% confirmed that Tony was in there. 

Well, that and the sound of quiet sobbing that Bucky could hear. The soft, pitiful weeping just about shattered what remained of his heart. He took a few steps into the room, zeroing in on the bed. When he got down on his hands and knees, he could easily make out Tony under the bed. The baby was curled up as far under the bed as he could get, back pressed to the wall. His face was buried in Meow's stomach, hidden from Bucky. It was times like this that Bucky wished he wasn't so broad in the shoulders, as he would've gladly joined Tony under the bed. 

"Hey baby boy," he said softly. "What's going on?"

Tony winced at the sound of his voice, but actually looked up. His eyes were swollen with tears and a lack of sleep. "S-sorry," he croaked.

Bucky blinked. "What?"

"I yelled. Daddy's just tryin' to help," Tony said, sniffing. He rubbed his cheek against Meow's belly. "Sorry."

"Aw, little doll. You don't have to apologize. Daddy and I know that it's because you're feeling so icky," Bucky said, keeping his voice low and soothing. "I wouldn't want to take that medicine either. It tastes horrible."

"It makes my throat hurt," Tony whispered, more tears sliding down his cheeks.

Everything made Tony's throat hurt right now, but Bucky decided not to point that out. "I know it does, and you have no idea how sorry that makes me. I hate seeing you like this. We both do."

For some reason, that made Tony start to cry again. Bucky panicked a little and stretched a hand out, trying to reach him, but the bed was too large. He couldn't come within more than two feet of Tony's ankle. He could've just stood up and moved the bed entirely, but doing that ran the risk of making Tony panic. That was one of the last things they needed. He struggled to remain calm.

"Tony, sweetheart," he said as calmly as possible, "can you tell me what's wrong? Are you in pain? Should I get Uncle Bruce?"

"I'm so much work!" Tony wailed.

Bucky stared at him dumbly. "What?"

"You and... and Daddy... I'm mean and I yelled and I fought you and I'm bad," Tony sobbed. "I'm sorry!"

Every once in a while, Bucky was deeply, cruelly glad that he had been the one to end Howard Stark's life. This was one of those moments. He had to take a deep breath to control his temper. What he wanted to do was close his eyes and relive the look of terror on Howard's face as Bucky's metal hand tightened around his throat. But there was a very upset baby who needed to be comforted, and Bucky didn't think he was going to be able to do it alone. He turned his head so that he was looking at the door and yelled for Steve.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, practically sprinting into the room.

"Tony just wanted us to know that he's sorry for being so much work. And he's also really sorry for being mean, for yelling and fighting, and for being bad," Bucky said.

Steve's face did something complicated, finally collapsing into sadness. Without a word, he walked over and knelt down beside Bucky, shifting until he could look under the bed. Tony's sobs grew a little louder when Steve appeared. 

"Tony, you are not bad," Steve said firmly. "You're a very good boy. The best boy that your papa and I could ask for. And we're not angry that you yelled or that you didn't want to take your medicine."

"I'm bad," Tony said miserably.

"You're not bad," Bucky repeated. "I know we've told you before that yelling isn't okay, and that you should do what we say even when you don't want to. But I think in this case, we can make an exception. I'm not going to lie to you and say that you're not work, because you are. But it's work that your daddy and I very much enjoy. We love you, baby boy. Making you feel better is the best part of my day."

"Mine too," Steve said. "And I don't know about your papa, but I could really use a cuddle right now. That would be the best apology I could hope for." 

Because there was no point in telling Tony not to apologize - when he was little he either refused to ever say the word 'sorry', or he got like this where he fell all over himself apologizing - but giving him a concrete way to make up for whatever he felt he'd done was the way to go no matter how he was feeling, whether it was helping with a chore or something like this. Bucky's heart lifted when Tony actually turned and looked at them, still crying, and he could've kissed Steve out of sheer gratitude when Tony finally started wiggling his way out from under the bed. Steve grabbed him once he was close enough and hauled him out the rest of the way, setting Tony on his lap.

Bucky hugged them both from behind, securely trapping Tony between them. He could feel Tony shaking with renewed sobs and shushed him, murmuring, "It's okay, honey. We're not mad at you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Make that both of us," Steve said with a rough laugh, pressing a kiss to Tony's temple. "You have no idea how important you are, sweetheart. We could never hate you, and we could never think you were bad. You're our precious little angel."

"Not an angel," Tony rasped, but the words were all but lost because of how bad his throat sounded. What little speaking he'd done had definitely tipped his throat over the edge. 

Figuring that it had to be painful, Bucky grabbed for the bottle of the water. He'd noticed Steve adding a little honey to the water and knew it would help with Tony's throat. He offered the nipple to Tony, half-expecting Tony to screw his face up and refuse the bottle since that was pretty much what the baby had been doing every time they tried to get him to eat or drink something over the past few days. But surprisingly, Tony just opened his mouth and accepted the nipple. He grimaced the first three or four times he swallowed, tears bright in his eyes, but was obviously too concerned about making Steve and Bucky angry to say no. Bucky felt a little bad about that, but getting some liquid into Tony was worth it.

"There's our good boy," he said softly, pleased to see that Tony had stopped wincing. Evidently the honey was helping. "Drink it all up, darlin'. Then we're going to have a bath and bedtime."

Steve shifted the baby a little, helping Tony to recline back against his arm so as to more easily drink. Bucky, in turn, moved closer so that he could still hold the bottle, draping Tony's legs over his lap. Tony had a hand on both of them, fingers knotted in their shirts wherever he could reach, like he was afraid they'd disappear if they let go. The very idea was ludicrous, of course, since Bucky wanted nothing more than to wrap Tony up and keep him somewhere safe forever. He settled for using his free hand to stroke Tony's hair while Tony suckled at the bottle, content to sit there on the floor with the two people he loved most.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains needles and an I.V. being inserted. Nothing is graphic (I don't like needles myself) but it contains Tony freaking out a little bit. Also, it's likely rife with inaccuracies since I know very little about medicine.

The morning dawned bright and cold. Steve shivered as he helped Thor carry the last couple of suitcases onto Tony's private jet. Even though he was wrapped up in a thick winter jacket, a scarf, hat and mitts, it still felt like the wind was permeating every layer and sinking into his bones. He thought longingly of their bed and curling up with Tony in the middle of him and Bucky, but that was just a pipe dream. Around 3am, Tony had woken up vomiting again. He'd thrown up three more times before Steve finally gave in and just got up with him around 6am, figuring there was no point in trying to get any more sleep. Bucky had stayed in bed for a little while longer before getting up too.

That meant all three of them were tired today, and, as much effort as it was to travel when you were exhausted, Steve was even more convinced that they were making the right decision. He was looking forward to getting out of the tower for a while and had hopes that the change of scenery might go a long way towards improving Tony's mood. Natasha and Clint were extremely excited about the vacation, and even Sam and Bruce seemed unusually motivated to get everything packed up. It was just a shame that this trip had been motivated by Tony being so sick.

Thor clapped him on the back, startling Steve out of his thoughts. "I believe that is everything," he said. "Will you be alright without me if I leave?"

"We'll be fine. Thanks for your help," Steve said, meaning it. Thor had made prior plans with Jane - it was their anniversary, and since the tower was going to be otherwise empty, Steve had the feeling he could guess how they were planning to spend it - and had opted not to join them for the trip. He had, however, extracted a promise from Steve that the team would take another trip later in the year that Thor would be going on. Honestly, it hadn't taken too much for Steve to agree to that. Vacations needed to be a more regular thing when you lived such a high-stress life.

"It was my pleasure. Enjoy your trip," Thor said. "I hope the little one feels better soon."

"You and me both," Steve said, walking back into the tower with him. He shivered again as the warmth of the tower surrounded them, pleased to see that Sam was making sure that Natasha and Clint were bundling up. It definitely wasn't warm enough for the kind of thin-shell jacket that Clint was trying to slip outside in. 

The elevator doors swept open, revealing Bucky, Bruce and Tony. Bucky was carrying Tony on his hip. The poor baby looked miserable, pale and sweaty. He reached for Steve when he realized that Steve was there. Steve obediently moved closer and took him, hugging Tony close and pressing a kiss to the baby's temple. Tony was already outfitted in a winter jacket, though it wasn't the one he usually wore when he was big. This one was black with a picture of the Hulk on the back of it. The words "HULK SMASH" were printed above the Hulk in bright purple letters. He was wearing a purple hat, mitts, scarf and boots to match.

"He's having some diarrhea," Bucky said, sliding the diaper bag off his shoulder. "His stomach's really upset. Bruce gave him some liquid gravol in the hopes that would help. He didn't want to take it, but Bruce finally got him to open his mouth. He wouldn't drink from a bottle, though." He sounded tired in spite of the sleep that they'd gotten.

"Poor baby," Steve murmured, patting Tony's bottom. He'd been hoping that they would avoid an upset tummy, but of course they couldn't be so lucky. He hoped that Bucky had thought to pack plenty of diapers, because it sounded like they would be going through a few of them on the three hour plane ride.

"I'm a little concerned that he's dehydrated," Bruce said quietly, the words obviously not meant for Tony's ears. "Bucky says he hasn't had anything to drink since last night, and he's losing a lot of liquid right now. We might have to put him on an I.V. when we get to the cabin."

Steve grimaced, meeting Bucky's gaze and reading the same apprehension there that he was currently feeling. That would be a shit show. Tony didn't like needles when he was in his big headspace, but he was openly terrified of them when he was being little. Rhodes had once told Steve that Tony had a lot of bad memories associated with needles - not just Afghanistan, but plenty of times when Tony had been drugged without consent (Rhodes had looked pointedly at Natasha during that conversation, who had met his gaze squarely and without apologizing) or woken up to find himself confined to a hospital bed.

"I'd like to keep that as a last resort, if we can," said Steve.

"Of course. I don't want to cause Tony any undue stress. I packed a couple of bottles. You can see if you can get him to drink at least one when we're up in the air," Bruce said. "Are we ready to go?"

"I think so. Thor's not coming, but he helped me get everything on the plane. Last thing to load up is us," Steve said. 

"I'll help Sam with the kids," Bucky said, picking up the diaper bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He walked over to Sam, who was struggling to get Natasha into her coat.

Steve left them to it and headed out into the bracing wind with Bruce at his side. Tony stirred at the chilly air against his face and looked around the roof with tired eyes before turning his cold nose into Steve's throat and shivering. Steve hugged him a little closer and picked up the pace, jogging up the steps into the plane. The temperature was more comfortable than outside, though he wouldn't be taking off Tony's jacket just yet. He headed over to the nearest set of seats and put Tony down in the middle, strapping the baby in securely before taking a seat beside him.

In short order, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Bruce joined them. Bucky sat on Tony's other side. Natasha and Bruce were sitting side by side just in front of them. Sam and Clint took the seats on the other side of the aisle. Everyone strapped themselves in. A couple of minutes later, Tony's personal pilot climbed on board, gave them all a quick smile and greeting, and then sealed himself into the cockpit. Steve put a hand on Tony's head, noticing that Tony was tugging at the belt across his lap.

"Don't do that, baby. That's for your own safety," he said, setting his other hand on top of Tony's hands to stop him. 

"Hurts," Tony whined. "Too tight."

Bucky and Steve exchanged a look. Then Bucky said, "Just bear with it for a minute, okay, honey? Once we're in the air, we can take it off."

"But it hurts," Tony said, as though his daddies hadn't gotten that message the first time.

"I know it does, but be patient," Bucky said, putting a hand on the back of Tony's neck. He squeezed gently, rubbing with his fingers. Normally that helped to calm Tony down, but this time he just whimpered and squirmed.

The reason for Tony's discomfort became obvious after they were in the air. Tony grabbed onto his belly and groaned and a very familiar smell hit Steve's nose. He couldn't help wrinkling his nose a little bit, glancing at Bucky. Both of them knew what had happened. As he unstrapped Tony and lifted the baby up, Steve comforted himself with the thought that at least Tony hadn't thrown up at the same time. He grabbed the diaper bag and headed for the bathroom at the back of the plane, grateful that they were flying private - which meant that the bathroom was large enough to accommodate a changing table big enough for someone of Tony's height and weight.

He laid Tony on the changing table and quickly removed the messy diaper, using baby wipes to clean him up. Tony was quiet during the change, thumb in his mouth and half-lidded eyes watching Steve. Steve didn't think it was his imagination that the heat radiating off of Tony was worse than before. The only thing that kept him from demanding that Bruce come check Tony's temperature immediately was the knowledge that Bruce had been giving Tony a quick check-up every morning, which meant that Tony's temperature would've been taken not thirty minutes ago. 

He slid a fresh diaper under Tony, pulled the front part up, and stuck it into place. He washed his hands and then snapped the crotch of Tony's onesie back together, deciding to forego the jeans Tony had been wearing for the time being. It was warm enough inside the plane that Tony didn't really need them, and there was a good chance the plastic waistband was adding to Tony's discomfort. Steve folded the jeans up, tucked them under his arm, and then scooped Tony back up. The baby cuddled into him.

"There we go. All nice and clean now. You're such a good boy, Tony," Steve whispered to him, pushing the bathroom door open. He was relieved to see that Sam had switched on the little television and was watching cartoons with Clint. Bruce was quietly reading a story to an enthralled Natasha. Steve carried Tony back to their seats, unsurprised when Tony refused to let go. He just sat down in Tony's old seat, letting the baby sit in his lap.

"All clean?" Bucky asked.

"For now," Steve said, stroking Tony's hair. "Let's wait a little while before we try him with a bottle. Give the gravol a chance to work. No sense in having him throw up anything he drinks."

He rocked Tony for a little while, rubbing the baby’s back until Tony drifted off. Bucky fell asleep too, leaning against Steve’s shoulder. Steve wasn’t tired, but he relished the chance to have a few quiet moments to himself. Especially when most of his family was all located in the same place so that he could be sure that they were safe. Much as he tried not to let his caregiver tendencies spill over on anyone but the Littles, sometimes he wasn’t as successful as he would’ve liked.

It only took another half an hour before first Clint and then Natasha fell asleep. Bruce pulled out a science magazine to flip through and Sam took out a book. In retrospect, Steve was glad that he hadn’t told Clint and Natasha that Phil would be meeting them at the cabin. He could only imagine how hyped up the two of them would’ve been. It was going to be a great surprise.

The rest of the flight was largely peaceful, except for when Tony woke up crying because his stomach was upset again. Steve somehow managed to get out of his seat without waking Bucky, taking the baby to the bathroom for another messy diaper change. He tried to coax Tony into drinking from a bottle Bruce had prepared. It was filled with Gatorade to help replenish the electrolytes Tony was losing, but Tony resolutely turned his face away every time and refused to drink.

Steve sighed and looked at him helplessly, cupping Tony’s hot cheek. “I wish you would drink, baby,” he said softly, not wanting to wake the others. “You’re not going to like what happens if you don’t.”

Tony just blinked up at him with hazy eyes, either too deep in his headspace or too feverish to understand what Steve was saying. Steve suspected it was the former, but it didn’t matter. Either way, he set the bottle aside and lifted Tony up against his shoulder, letting the baby nuzzle in against his neck. Steve cuddled him for a while as they looked out the window, watching the clouds and the occasional glimpse of the world below.

About fifteen minutes before they reached their destination, the pilot signaled Steve. He got up again and changed Tony’s diaper one last time, then got the baby dressed. Tony fussed a little when the jeans were pulled up around his waist but didn’t try to take them off. Steve kissed his fingers in apology and carried him back out, realizing that Sam and Bruce had passed out at some point too.

Everyone woke when the plane started to go down. Clint began to cry, grabbing at his ears. Sam shushed him as best he could until the plane landed. It was a relatively gentle landing, all things considered, but Tony started to cry as well. Steve pulled him close and tried to soothe him as the plane rolled to a stop, patting his bottom. Sam and Bruce held back Clint and Natasha so that Steve and Tony could be the first ones off.

“See, sweetheart? It’s okay. Everything’s okay,” Steve cooed, bouncing the baby. “Look. Do you see all the snow over there?” He pointed. They had snow in New York, of course, but not to this extent. It was at least half a dozen feet deep, if not higher.

“Snow,” Tony said, the word almost inaudible, but Steve managed to hear it anyway and smiled.

“That’s right. Snow,” he agreed. Tony probably wouldn’t get the chance to play in it much, but he’d have fun watching Natasha and Clint.

“Snow and _cold_ ,” Bucky said, joining them. He shivered dramatically just to see the smile on Tony’s face. Tony reached for him and Bucky took him, pressing a kiss to the top of Tony’s head. Steve turned to help with the luggage.

He and Sam piled everything into the trunks of the two cars that was waiting for them. When you were travelling with three Littles, especially one who was sick, you didn’t travel light. He finally got the last suitcase shoved in and pulled the trunk down, rounding the car to join Bucky and Tony. The other four had opted for the other car, which was fine with Steve. It gave them some space to spread out, letting Tony stretch out between them with his head on Bucky’s lap and his feet on Steve’s.

It wasn’t a long drive. Tony crawled up onto Steve’s lap, accidently putting a knee in Steve’s abdomen, to stare out the window at the cabin, clearly fascinated even though it was a property he owned. Steve surreptitiously rubbed his stomach and glowered at Bucky, who was laughing at him. 

“Un’le A’ent!” Tony squeaked, pointing through the glass. “Pa! Da! Un’le A’ent!”

Both of them looked obediently. Sure enough, Phil was standing outside the cabin waiting for them. Even heavily dressed in a winter jacket, hat, scarf and mitts, he was unmistakable. Steve could hear the shrieks of joy from the other car even before they stopped, and he couldn’t help grinning as the car doors flew open and Natasha and Clint spilled out. They literally tackled Phil to the ground.

Bucky started to laugh. “At least the snow is soft and he didn’t have a hard landing.”

“Somehow, I don’t think Phil will take that as much of a consolation,” Steve said, still grinning as their car stopped. He got out first and then lifted Tony out, but Tony didn’t want to be carried. He squirmed until Steve set him down and then toddled over to Phil, Natasha and Clint. Phil had managed to push himself up and was holding Clint in his lap. Clint was crying a little bit, pushing his face into his daddy’s shoulder. In between comforting him, Phil had wrapped his other arm around Natasha. But he still looked up and smiled at Tony.

“Hey there, baby boy,” he said gently. “I heard you’re not feeling very good.”

“Tony’s sick,” Natasha said, squirming out from under Phil’s arm. “He might die.”

“Natasha!” Phil said, shocked. Clint started crying harder. Phil automatically shifted to hug him fully, still frowning at Natasha.

Tony definitely understood that. His eyes went very wide. “I die?” he said in this tiny, tremulous voice that damn near shattered Steve’s heart. From the look on Bucky’s face, Steve wasn’t the only one.

“No, baby,” Bucky said.

“Of course not,” Steve said at the same time. They both hurried over to Tony, arms outstretched to scoop him up. 

“I die,” Tony said again, starting to cry. He clung to Steve, sobbing.

“Natasha, why would you say that?” Phil said. 

Natasha shrugged. “Babies die when they’re sick,” she said, like this was information that everyone was supposed to know. Phil sighed, and Bucky and Steve exchanged looks. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Natasha had grown up in the Red Room, where even a hint of an injury could be cause for death. It had taken Phil a very long time to get her used to reporting injuries post-battle, because Natasha was so afraid that any sign of weakness would mean that the offer of being a SHIELD agent would be rescinded.

Finally, Phil looked at her and said, “Maybe that was true back when you were a child, but it’s not true now. Tony is _not_ going to die. That’s why Bruce is here, to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“He’s not that kind of doctor,” Natasha pointed out. Tony wailed louder.

Bruce, who had been listening to this, stepped forward and crouched down beside her. “I’m not, but I’ve been studying a little bit since moving in with all of you,” he told her. “I’m more than capable of caring for Tony with the help of his daddies. And if something really bad happened, there’s a hospital not too far away. Tony’s going to be fine.” He sounded so calm and so sure that Natasha looked like she was starting to believe him.

“In fact,” Bruce added, “I think I’m going to have to put an I.V. in Tony because he hasn’t been drinking enough and he’s dehydrated. Would you like to help me?”

Natasha nodded eagerly. “I’ll help!”

“Me too,” Clint said. Tears were still rolling down his face, but he turned to look at Bruce. “I help too?”

“Sure. But first we need to get all this stuff inside,” Bruce said, gesturing to where Sam had finished unloading the two cars. “Who wants to help with that first?”

“I will,” Natasha said, striding over. Clint squirmed out of Phil’s lap and followed, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. Phil stood up, dusting the snow off his jeans, and glanced at Bucky and Steve.

“Sorry about that. I’ve been doing my best to make her realize that life here isn’t the same as where she grew up, but it’s a work in process.” He stepped closer, reaching out a hand to Tony. “There there, baby boy. No one is going to let anything happen to you. You’re okay.”

Tony grabbed onto his hand, sniffing. “I die?” he asked in the same tiny voice.

“No,” Phil said gently, and Steve and Bucky nodded in agreement. “You’re gonna be okay, kiddo.”

Maybe Phil should’ve thought twice about making that kind of promise, because the way Tony screamed when he saw the I.V. pole indicated that he clearly thought Phil had been lying his ass off. He tried to jump off the bed, but Bucky was there and grabbed him around the waist. Tony _howled_ , loud enough that it brought Sam into the room because he thought there was something wrong. 

“Tony, Tony!” Steve yelled over the wailing, trying to get Tony to pay attention to him. “Baby, it’s okay.”

“No!” Tony shrieked. “Bad!”

“Not bad. This will make you feel better,” Bucky said, pulling the baby into a hug. Tony fought him desperately, eyeing the medical bag that Bruce had set down on the nightstand like it was a hot poker ready to stab him. When Steve hugged him too, he could feel how fast Tony’s heart was pounding.

Clint whimpered a little, looking frightened, so Phil hustled him out of the room. Natasha stood her ground, however, even though she looked upset as well. She walked over to the three of them and put her hands on her hips, saying, “My daddy told me that needles make people feel better. If you wanna live, you should take the needle.”

“Natasha,” Sam said behind her, somewhat despairingly.

“I don’t wanna,” Tony said, tears rolling down his face. “Don’t like!” His voice cracked and he started to cough. Steve patted his back comfortingly.

“But you wanna be a big boy, don’t you?” Natasha said. “Like Clint?”

That caught Tony’s attention. He stared up at her, hesitant. And indeed, it was a point that Tony had made _a lot_ when he, Bucky and Steve were just starting out. Even though it was what he needed, for the longest time he’d been obsessed with proving that he was a ‘big boy’, throwing a fit if diapers or bottles were so much as mentioned. It had taken a while for Bucky and Steve to make him realize that they didn’t mind if he was a baby, and slowly Tony had grown accustomed to giving into his biological needs.

But there was still a part of Tony that longed to be a big boy like Clint, just because he wanted to be able to do the kinds of things that Clint did like staying up late or watching movies that were a little old for Tony’s headspace. And Natasha knew it, too. She looked down at Tony and smiled in a really cute way.

“Clint doesn’t like needles either, but he only cries a little,” she confided. “And if you have the needle and you’re still alive, maybe we can have cookies. Big boys can have cookies before lunch, right Uncle Bucky?”

“Right,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes at Steve. It was hard to argue her methods when it was working, but Steve was pretty sure this was just a ploy of Natasha’s to get extra cookies. The sad part was, Tony was thinking about it so it was probably going to work. And sure enough, it did.

“Okay,” Tony said at last. 

“Thank you, Natasha,” Bruce said, smiling a little. “Sit down on the bed with him, would you, Bucky?”

“How long will this take?” Steve asked. He took a seat beside Bucky against the headboard, letting Tony lean against both of them. Tony whimpered a little as Bruce approached, but he was so obviously trying to stay calm that Steve’s heart swelled. He was so brave.

“The first bag takes about an hour and a half. Second bag about six hours, and then I’ll see if a third bag is necessary. If so, I’ll probably leave it overnight. I don’t want to give him too much too fast. His body is under enough strain as it is between the arc reactor and him being sick. If it ends up he needs a third bag, I’ll add a little something to make him sleep,” Bruce added.

“That would be appreciated,” Bucky muttered, running his fingers through Tony’s sweaty hair. 

“Natasha, could you hold this?” Bruce handed her the bag of liquid. He was all business as he gently rubbed Tony’s arm with a solution to sterilize the skin. Tony was slowly going white aside from his flushed cheeks. His breathing was picking up from panic. Steve didn’t need to put a hand to his chest to know that Tony’s heart was racing even faster than before. He kind of looked like he was going to pass out.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” he whispered. And then, as Bruce took the little bag from Natasha, he said, “Natasha, would you grab me Tony’s kitty from the diaper bag?”

“Sure,” Natasha said, running over to the bag. It only took her a moment to find Meow. She presented the stuffed toy to Tony, who grabbed onto it desperately and immediately hid his face in Meow’s fur. 

“You’re being very brave, Tony,” Bruce said softly, prepping the needle. He looked as upset as Steve felt. “Just hold on. It’ll be over soon.”

Tony cried out when Bruce inserted the needle. It was such a pitiful cry that Steve had to grit his teeth against the urge to shove Bruce away. He couldn’t stand this. He was used to coming up against dangers that he could beat away with his fists or his shield, but in a case like this there was pitifully little that he and Bucky could do. Sitting here trying to comfort Tony while the baby cried silent tears made him feel useless.

Beside him, Bucky had lowered his head and was whispering into Tony’s ear. “It’s almost over. You’re doing so good. Daddy and I are so proud of you. It’s almost over.”

“All done,” Bruce said, quickly standing up. He taped the I.V. into place - using tape that was patterned with Captain America's shield, Steve noticed with amusement - and then nudged the I.V. pole a little bit closer to the bed. “Good job, Tony. I’ve never had such a good patient in all my life. Or such a good helper.” He patted Natasha’s shoulder and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

"Can we have cookies now?" Natasha asked.

Bruce glanced at Tony, who was still breathing so fast he was almost hyperventilating. "Why don't we give Tony a few minutes to calm down?" he suggested, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Sam, can you take Natasha and go find out what Phil and Clint are up to?"

"Sure. C'mon, sprout." Sam beckoned to Natasha and guided her out of the room. Once Natasha was gone, Tony's breathing stuttered a couple of times. Then he broke down into sobs.

"Hey, hey, it's all over now. You're okay," Steve soothed. 

"I'll give you a few minutes," Bruce said, looking sympathetic. "You did really good, Tony."

"Thanks Bruce," Bucky said. He mouthed something else at Bruce - not that he really needed to, since Tony was crying so hard he wasn't even listening to their conversation. Bruce nodded back and slipped out of the room. 

It took both the combined efforts of Bucky and Steve to calm Tony down. Every time the baby caught sight of the I.V. in his arm, he would start crying all over again. After about twenty minutes, though, he'd cried himself out. He lay limply against Steve's chest, flushed with distress, half-heartedly sucking at his thumb while clutching Meow to his chest with the hand the I.V. was in.

"I hate this," Bucky muttered. "I feel so helpless."

"You and me both. But maybe this will help. Maybe he'll start feeling better after this," Steve said. If he remembered correctly, Tony usually started feeling better after a cold or flu moved down into his tummy. He hoped that it would be the same this time around. He didn't think that he, Bucky, Tony or Bruce could go through another round with the I.V. 

"I really hope so." Bucky sighed and shifted, squirming out from under the baby. "It's time for his next dose of Tylenol."

The trauma of the I.V. had clearly exhausted Tony, because he opened his mouth without fuss and let Bucky squirt the liquid Tylenol in. He swallowed, grimacing a little. Steve figured the crying had been hard on his throat, but when Tony wasn't willing to drink anything to soothe the pain he wasn't sure what to do. He settled for gently rubbing Tony's chest, staying away from the arc reactor, while Bucky ran to the bathroom.

Much to Steve's surprise, Bucky didn't come back empty-handed. He was holding a jar of honey. Steve watched in curiosity as Bucky unscrewed the jar and dipped the index and middle finger of his metal hand into the honey. Quickly, he pulled Tony's thumb out of his mouth. Before the baby could start howling in protest, Bucky slipped his fingers into Tony's mouth. Tony blinked, then started to suck on Bucky's fingers.

"He's licking the honey off," Steve said, understanding. "Nice."

Bucky shot him a small smile. "I remember my ma doing this for me when I was a kid," he said. "At the very least, the honey'll coat his throat and the calories will be good for him. Might help him perk up a bit, too. I think Phil is just about ready with the surprise."

That little bit of news made Steve grin. He couldn't wait to see Tony's reaction.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony was content to lay with them for the next hour, sucking honey from their fingers while the I.V. did its work. Whether it was the honey or the hydration, he was already looking a lot better by the time that Bruce came in to switch the I.V. bags around. He then approached the bed cautiously, clearly thinking that Tony was going to get upset, but Tony just lifted the hand that had been clutching Meow and reached for him. Bruce caught his hand.

“Hey buddy,” he said softly. “You being a good boy for your daddies? Of course you are. Do you mind if I take your temperature?” He waited for Tony to shake his head before smiling. “That’s great. Just stay where you are. You don’t need to do anything.”

He took his thermometer from the bag on the nightstand and leaned over Steve, slipping it into Tony’s ear. When it beeped, he studied the screen and smiled again. “It looks like your temperature has gone down some. He’s at 101F,” he added to Bucky and Steve. “That’s down a whole degree from this morning, so the I.V. is definitely helping. Did he eat any of the honey?”

“About a third of a cup,” Bucky said, showing him the bottle. His metal hand was sticky as hell now, but it was worth it to see Tony finally eating something. 

“Good. I’d give him another gravol, and then maybe try him with some dry crackers. It’s important for him to keep his strength up,” Bruce said. “And crackers should be pretty easy on his stomach. If he won’t eat those, it’s okay for him to keep eating honey. Anything is better than nothing at this point.”

“I’ll get some crackers if you want to give him the gravol,” Bucky said to Steve. He eased his way out from under Tony and headed into the bathroom to wash his hands. The honey had been a stroke of genius if Bucky did say so himself. He’d been poking through the kitchen cupboards, hoping to find something relatively quick and easy for him and Steve to snack on, when he’d come across the bottle. The combination of the golden liquid and the fat bee on the label had definitely struck a chord. 

Sometimes memories, especially old memories, were hard for Bucky to reach for. Sometimes they lingered just out of reach, and the harder he tried to remember the less successful he was. But this one had slipped into his mind easily: he hadn’t gotten sick very often as a child, but there had been one time in particular when a flu took him down hard. His ma had sat by his side and patiently spooned honey into his mouth whenever he was willing. She’d later done the same for his sick sisters, though by that time honey was much harder to come by.

And now that same method had worked just as well for her grandson, some eighty years later. He was pretty sure that she would’ve been proud, though she probably would’ve scolded him for taking so long to think of it. Bucky smirked to himself and walked into the kitchen, finding Sam standing over the stove stirring a spot. It smelled like chicken and herbs.

“Chicken soup?” Bucky asked.

Sam shrugged. “It’s not up to our usual standards, but I figured it would do for a quick meal. We can plan something better for dinner. Any chance Tony will drink some?”

“Bruce said to try him on crackers. If he eats those and keeps them down, we can graduate to soup tonight.” Bucky opened a cupboard and took out the soda crackers. “Where are the kids?”

“Helping Phil with Tony’s surprise,” Sam said, shooting him a knowing look. “What happened to the man that used to tell me that having a Little was enough work?”

“He got whipped,” Bucky said dryly. Tony had never outright asked for this. Of course he wouldn’t. Tony rarely asked for anything. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was because Tony thought he would be told no, or because he thought he didn’t deserve to have anything more than what he already had or could buy for himself. Both of which were bullshit. Steve and Bucky would gladly give Tony the world if they only knew what Tony wanted; the problem was that a lot of the time, Tony was just too good at keeping things under the vest.

This, though. Bucky was positive that he and Steve had gotten this one right. And he was eager to see what Tony’s reaction would be. He left Sam laughing behind him and went back into the bedroom. Bruce had left, and Steve was in the middle of changing Tony’s diaper. Bucky’s heart twisted at the sight of his sick baby: Tony’s face was still pale behind his flushed cheeks, and he looked thin and tired. But he still smiled and reached for Bucky.

“You wanna try him with those?” Steve said, finishing up the diaper change. “I’ll check in with Phil. I might grab some lunch too, if you don't mind holding down the fort for a little while.”

“Sure. Hey baby boy,” Bucky cooed, sitting down on the bed beside Tony. He pried open the box and took out a sleeve of crackers. “Wanna try a cracker?”

Tony opened his hand, so Bucky took out a cracker and gave it to him. He guessed he should’ve been expecting Tony to curl his hand into a fist, crushing the cracker, and then open his hand again. It was only his quick reflexes that let Bucky drop the sleeve of crackers and cup his hands under Tony’s, catching all of the crumbs before they hit the bed. Steve _hated_ crumbs in the bed.

“You’re such a monkey,” Bucky said, dumping the mess into the garbage. Tony gave him a tiny smile. It was a ghost of the smiles he used to give, but Bucky would take it.

This time, he broke off a small piece of cracker and held it out until Tony, after a long moment of consideration, opened his mouth. Bucky popped the cracker in. He was half-expecting Tony to spit it out, but Tony didn’t. He closed his mouth, cheeks and jaw working. He was sucking on it, Bucky realized, turning it to mush before he swallowed. Which made sense, since even with the honey his throat still had to be painful.

“Good boy,” he said softly, running his fingers through Tony’s hair. “I know this has been really hard on you, sweetheart. You’ll feel better soon.”

Tony just blinked in response, opening his mouth like a baby bird. Bucky took the hint and gave him another small piece. He managed to get half a dozen crackers into Tony before Tony turned his head away, refusing to eat anymore. Between the honey and the crackers he’d done well, so Bucky didn’t push. The last thing he wanted to do was overload Tony’s stomach and have him throw up again. 

He set the crackers aside in case Tony wanted more later and curled up with the baby, idly rubbing Tony’s tummy with the pads of his fingers. He was hoping that last night and this morning had been the worst of it, and now Tony would start coming out the other end. He’d been sick for the better part of a week. The only good thing was that Bruce had never once thought Tony was close to the point of needing to go to the hospital.

Maybe someday they’d create a cure for the flu and the cold. Bucky sure hoped so. It wasn’t that he minded caring for Tony. On the contrary, there was a part of Bucky that loved it. But it was frustrating to know that Tony felt so miserable and be unable to do anything about it. The only thing that he could be sure of was that at least Tony wasn’t hiding away in his workshop, as he’d done a couple of times before Bucky and Steve started being his caregivers. 

And oh yeah – Bucky remembered those days with vivid clarity. Steve and Tony had gotten into some interesting shouting matches over Tony’s health, with Steve taking the stance that, as team leader, he should have some say in how well Tony took care of himself. Tony, on the other hand, had pretty flatly told Steve (and the rest of them, by extension) to butt out, which just made Steve even more upset. 

They were both so stubborn, neither willing to back down, and it only resulted in Tony being even more determined to hide away in his workshop when he felt sick or was wounded. Bucky had been stuck in the middle of the two of them, wanting to help Tony while also trying to pacify Steve, and had finally lost his temper and called them both out for being idiots that wanted the same damn thing; it was just that neither one was willing to admit it. Tony because he thought it made him weak, and Steve because he was too afraid of rejection.

This was much better. Tony was being cared for to the best of their abilities, and there was no yelling. Steve and Bucky could hover to their heart’s content, and Tony was soaking up the attention like a sponge. Even now, he’d rolled over onto his side so that his head was positioned over Bucky’s chest. He’d always taken comfort from listening to their heartbeats. He was curled in as close as possible.

Steve peeked around the door, raising his eyebrows in silent query. Bucky nodded back at him. They were trying not to introduce too much excitement right now, but Tony was in dire need of a pick-me-up. He watched as Steve stepped into the room, holding their surprise in the palm of his hands. Phil, Clint, Natasha, Bruce and Sam gathered in the doorway behind him to watch.

“Tony,” Steve called softly. “Sweetheart, we have a surprise for you.”

It seemed to take a moment for the words to sink in. Tony’s eyes fluttered open – he’d been falling asleep – and he blinked up at Bucky before he rolled onto his back. He looked at Steve, and Bucky could pinpoint the instant when he registered what Steve was holding: his whole body froze, to the point where he stopped breathing, and his eyes went wide. Bucky grinned.

The maine coon kitten certainly was adorable. Its fur was smoky grey for the most part with patches of darker grey fur, including a dark grey tail and ears. Bright blue eyes peered out at Tony, who stared like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Right now the kitten was small enough to be comfortably held in Steve’s hands, but they’d done some research before buying the kitten for Tony. It would probably end up somewhere in the range of 15-20lbs considering the size of its parents, which was perfect for someone like Tony who loved having bigger stuffed animals to cuddle with.

The kitten yawned, revealing a pink tongue and sharp white teeth, and blinked before meowing. Steve stepped forward and gently set the kitten on the edge of the bed. Since Tony didn’t seem to be capable of moving yet, Bucky lifted a hand and clicked his tongue. The kitten wandered up the bed and stuck its nose against Bucky’s finger. He gently rubbed its cheek, eliciting a purr.

“What do you think, baby?” he asked Tony, glancing down at him. Tony was still frozen in place, though he hadn’t taken his eyes off the kitten. At Bucky’s question, he slowly looked at Bucky.

“For me?” he whispered, uncertainty mingling with desire. He wanted the kitten so badly it was written all over his face, but he wasn’t sure that it was really for him. Which didn’t surprise Bucky at all. Steve had told him once, having learned the story from Peggy, that Maria and Jarvis had bought Tony a puppy once when he was a child. When Howard found out, he was furious and immediately had the puppy removed from the house and sent to the pound.

The story had infuriated Bucky then, and it made him angry all over again now. How could you treat a child so badly? It was beyond his level of understanding. Especially someone like Tony, who wanted nothing more than to love or be loved. It was no wonder that Tony had never dared to get another pet even after his parents died and he was living by himself.

Steve had brought it up once just to see how he would react to the idea; it had been obvious that Tony wanted a pet just from his reaction, but in less than a minute Tony had shut the idea down flat, claiming that he could barely keep himself alive, much less a pet. Offers to help from the rest of the team had been ignored, as Tony pointed out that their lives were just too busy to accommodate having a cat or dog around.

There was no way Steve and Bucky had been about to let that stand. Tony might've grown up with more money than any one person could know what to do with, but he'd also been denied a hell of a lot. They'd immediately put a plan in motion to get Tony a pet of his very own. That it happened to overlap with Tony's illness was just a coincidence, albeit a good one. It was nice to see the sickly baby looking even a little bit happier than before.

“Your daddy and I talked it over, and we agreed that every little boy and girl should have a pet,” Bucky said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clint open his mouth. Phil reached down and covered it before Clint could say a word. Bucky had to bite back a grin. He probably shouldn’t have said that. Phil was never going to hear the end of it. He had the feeling that they were going to be seeing another couple of cats or dogs wandering around the tower very soon. 

“We thought you might like a kitty for right now,” Steve added. 

Tony glanced from him to Bucky without saying a word, still unsure. 

“It’s okay, Tony. Really. Everyone in the tower is in agreement. No one is going to take the kitty away from you," Steve said gently, though Bucky caught a flicker of barely-contained sorrow in his eyes. Out of the two of them, Steve blamed himself the most for not being there when Tony needed him. Which was ridiculous, since Steve had been frozen in ice, but there you go.

“But… attacks?” Tony said, voice soft.

“If we’re called out for a long period of time, Pepper or Happy both said they’d love to look after him for us. And your kitten won’t leave the tower, so he should be safe there. You said it yourself, your tower is the safest place in the world.” Steve tickled the bottom of Tony’s right foot, which earned him a tiny smile. 

Him. Up till that point Bucky hadn’t been completely sure of the cat’s gender, since they hadn’t been permitted to take it until it was spayed or neutered. They hadn’t specified a male or female, or even a color for that matter, considering that they were positive that Tony would adore the animal regardless. And it seemed like they’d still ended up with the cutest ball of fluff there was.

That seemed to be the last of Tony’s objections. His hand trembled a little as he lifted it towards the kitten, pausing mid-air as though he didn’t dare move the last inch. The kitten had no such objections, rocking forward and eagerly butting his head against Tony’s hand. Another smile broke out across Tony’s face and he gently rubbed the kitten’s back with two shaking fingers. 

“Can I see?” Natasha asked, and Tony looked up in surprise.

“Okay,” he agreed. Natasha and Clint spilled into the room, landing on the bed hard enough to make Tony bounce in spite of Phil’s words of caution. Far from being overwhelmed, the kitten seemed enthralled with the attention. Bucky slid off the bed to give them more space and joined Steve, watching as the three Littles took turns petting and fawning over the kitten. 

“I think that was a wise move on your part,” Bruce said quietly. “I’ve seen Tony at that pet shelter you volunteer at, Bucky. He adores cats.”

“That’s where he came from,” Bucky said, jerking a hand over his shoulder at the bed. The shelter receiving a pregnant maine coon cat out of the blue was actually one of the things that had sparked the whole decision in the first place. He couldn’t in good conscience buy a pet when there were so many that needed good homes, and the people he volunteered with were all too happy to reserve a kitten for them.

“Thanks for picking him up on your way here, Phil,” Steve said.

“No problem. Though I’m wondering what you’ve started,” Phil said.

Sam smirked. “I’d make your peace with the cat or dog in your future now,” he said, clapping Phil on the shoulder. “Besides, it would probably be really good for Natasha. Might help her with learning how to show more affection. And she looks really happy.”

They all looked back at the bed. Tony was still laying on his back. Natasha and Clint were on either side of him. Clint was poking the kitten in the side. No one was surprised when, quick as lightening, the kitten whipped around and nipped at Clint’s finger. Clint yanked his finger away with a shocked look and a squeak of surprise. Tony and Natasha both laughed at him. Phil smiled, his face softening.

“I guess it wouldn’t be the end of the world. As long as Pepper and Happy don’t mind pet-sitting.”

“Pepper seemed pretty excited about it when I talked to her,” Steve said. “I don’t think you’ll have to twist her arm into it.”

Phil sighed and took out his phone. “Does that shelter you work for have any puppies?”

They let the kids play for a little while longer, until Tony started yawning. Steve got back into the bed with him while Phil and Sam hustled Natasha and Clint out. Bucky stood back, watching as Bruce puttered around the room: adjusting the I.V. line, unfolding a blanket to drape across Tony’s lower half (mindful of the kitten, who’d curled up near Tony’s tummy), and generally just fussing. When he caught Bucky’s eye, he flushed a little.

“He’s just so tiny,” he said defensively. “And up until now, Tony’s been so stubborn about letting anyone take care of him.”

“Gotta take your chances where you can get ‘em. No judgment, Doc,” Bucky said, flicking the light off. He stepped out into the hallway and Bruce followed. He closed the door most of the way, leaving it open just a crack so that he’d be able to hear if something was wrong. From the looks of it, Tony was feeling pretty sleepy so Bucky was hoping he’d nap for a while.

Bruce nodded. “I keep telling him I’m not that kind of doctor, but with the way he makes me worry…” He shook his head. “The good news is, I think he’s on the mend now. He’s responding very well to the I.V. rehydration. It’s early days yet of course, but I’m optimistic that we’ve seen the worst of it. If he keeps progressing, you might be able to move him out into the living room for a while tomorrow.”

“That would be good. Tony’s been in either his crib or our bed for the past week. Except for when he was making a run for it,” Bucky amended, grimacing. “It would be nice for him to be vertical for a while, and good for him to spend time with everyone else. I know you said he probably wasn’t contagious now, but Sam’s been trying to keep Natasha and Clint away from him just in case. The last thing we need is to have all three of them sick.”

"That would hardly be good for Phil's blood pressure," Bruce agreed, mouth twitching with amusement. He headed down the hall with Bucky trailing behind. It was snack time - because Bucky hadn't been paying attention, but it was way past lunch time and now veering into an early supper time, which explained why he was so hungry - and he was just in time to snag the last of the soup that Sam had been heating up earlier. Natasha was muttering about not having received her cookies before she had lunch, but she piped down when Phil gave her a look.

After Natasha and Clint were done with their snack, Phil bundled them up and hustled them outside. Sam and, after a spectacular set of puppy eyes from Natasha, Bruce both joined them. Bucky watched them out the balcony doors for a while, cackling to himself when a snowball fight started up and Natasha, Clint and Bruce joined up together to take on Phil and Sam. Little or not, Clint still possessed spectacular aim and he wasn't above using his skills for pure evil. Likewise, Natasha was a sneaky brat when she wanted to be. It was hilarious to watch her sneak up behind Sam and dump a whole load of snow on his unsuspecting head.

He must've fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up to a darkened sky outside and Natasha, dressed in pink pajamas now, cuddled up beside him on the couch. Bucky took a minute to run his fingers through her still-damp hair. Sometimes he could remember flashes of a little red-haired girl from the Red Room. He'd never actually confirmed it with Natasha, but he knew that it had been her. It never failed to amaze him when he thought about how far she had come. And it had been done with a lot of hard work on Natasha's part, though the support she had from Phil and Clint in particular certainly helped.

Phil leaned around the door. "You missed dinner. I'll make you up a plate if you'll carry her to bed with me."

Bucky stretched. "Sure. How's Tony?"

"I checked on them a few minutes ago. They're both passed out."

Pleased, because Bucky hadn't been the only one running on very little sleep, he stood up and easily lifted Natasha. She mumbled a complaint but curled into him, her cold nose nudging against his neck. Bucky murmured back to her in Russian, watching as the comforting language worked to soothe her back into a deep slump. It was a boneless Natasha that he poured into bed a couple of minutes later, pulling the covers up around her shoulders and making sure that her favorite stuffed wolf was within easy reach. He turned to leave, but a quiet voice stopped him.

"Uncle James?" she murmured, barely awake.

"Yes?"

"Tony's not gonna die, is he?"

Heart twisting in his chest, Bucky turned back to her and crouched down so that they were on the same eye level. "I give you my word, Natalia," he murmured. "Tony is going to be okay. Steve and I won't let anything happen to him."

She searched his face for a moment, but whatever she saw must've been reassuring because she nodded. "Good. I'd be sad if he died."

"We all would," Bucky said. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and tip-toed out, certain that she was asleep by the time his foot crossed the doorframe. He shut the door - Natasha preferred to sleep in complete darkness, as opposed to Clint who needed a red nightlight to sleep well - and stood there for a few seconds longer, thinking about Natasha and the utter sincerity in her eyes. She was a good kid.

"Thanks," Phil said, drawing Bucky from his thoughts. He was holding a tray, which had two large sandwiches, two mugs of hot chocolate, and a bottle. "Bruce said to try getting Tony to drink from a bottle. It's just juice."

"I'll give it a shot, thanks." Bucky took the tray and headed down the hallway. He found Steve and Tony still sleeping, just as Phil had said: Steve was laying on his back with Tony sprawled half on top of him, securely wrapped up in Steve's big arms. The kitten poked his head up above Steve's blond head, blinking sleepily, then meowed in greeting.

That woke Steve, who yawned and mumbled, "Buck?"

"Yeah. Thought you might be hungry again." Bucky set the tray on the nightstand, glancing out the window. It was snowing, big, fat flakes drifting past the glass. He liked the snow, but knew Steve felt differently. And sure enough, when he looked around, Steve's eyes were also tracking the progress of the snow.

"It's okay," Steve said, before Bucky could ask.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I still don't like it, but when I'm inside with you and Tony it's tolerable." He hugged Tony a little tighter, which woke the baby. Bucky grinned at him.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he said softly. "You hungry? Want some more crackers and a bottle?"

"Ro'hcoe," Tony said.

Bucky frowned. "What?"

"We named the kitten while you were out," Steve said with a sheepish smile. He pulled the pacifier out of Tony's mouth. "Say it again, baby."

"Roscoe," Tony said, a little bit louder. 

"That's a great name," Bucky said, pleased. He hadn't expected Tony to name the kitten so fast, but he considered it to be a positive sign that Tony was already becoming attached. Roscoe meowed again, purring.

He joined Steve and Tony on the bed, grabbing the crackers. In between bites of his sandwich, he fed Tony little pieces of the cracker again. Tony ate everything he was given and even willingly opened his mouth for the bottle when Steve gave it to him, reclining in the crook of Steve's left arm. Bucky smiled down at him as he picked up his mug of hot chocolate, unsurprised when Tony's hand grabbed onto his free hand. He intertwined their fingers and gave Tony's hand a very gentle squeeze, reassuring the baby that he was there.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


End file.
